Opposites
by Lunaterre224
Summary: After seeing too many "what if Harry was a girl" stories I decided to write one where EVERY character was of the opposite gender, starting with the Marauders Era. Social expectations are very different for all of the characters and repercussions are seen throughout wizarding society. AU (obviously)
1. Chapter 1 - The Playground

**Hello and welcome to a new story!**

 **This book was inspired by Hyaroo and "Hermione Granger's Guide to Gender-Flip Fanfiction" where I wanted to write a universe where all of the characters were of the opposite gender. I soon realised that the characters' backstories would soon change as would wizarding society.**

 **In this chapter:**

 **Hawthorne Evans = (male) Petunia Evans**

 **Rowan Evans = (male) Lily Evans**

 **Gracie Prince = (female) Severus Snape**

 **Other characters will be introduced once they get to Hogwarts and I have up until their fifth year planned.**

 **This is just a bit of fun and I (obviously) do not have any rights to the Harry Potter universe.**

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It was a bright summer's day in Cokeworth and two boys raced around the playground. The older boy was faster, as he had longer legs and was quite tall for his age (due to his rather elongated neck). He was a good ten paces ahead, but you could tell he was being slower than usual, giving his younger sibling a fighting chance. The younger boy charged after his brother, determined to win.

"I win, I win!" The eldest's smile gleamed, as his brother put on a burst of speed and overtook him at last second.

"Alright then, but I bet I can go higher than you can on the swings!"

"No you can't!" the youngest exclaimed, leaping onto the nearest swing. "I can go so much higher than you can!"

His brother just laughed and sat on the next swing, beginning to gain height.

The playground appeared to be deserted, except for the boys, yet a small girl was crouched behind a bush watching them. She was skinny and uncared for, her black hair hanging in greasy plaits. Her dark eyes were fixed on the pair with a mixture of awe and fear, as the youngest swung higher and higher than his brother.

"Rowan, don't! You'll get hurt!" The eldest suddenly remembered their mother making them promise not to swing that high. He panicked, as his brother let go of the swing at the height of its arc, catapulting forwards through the air. Rowan soared, staying up far too long and landing lightly on his toes, a great distance from the swings.

"I win!" Rowan exclaimed, his green eyes shining. "Did you see that Thorne?"

The older brother, Hawthorne, slowed his swing by dragging his feet along the ground; hurrying from the swings before they even stopped their motion. He tackled his younger brother into a hug and pulled him to his chest.

"Don't you dare do that again, Rowan. That was dangerous!"

Rowan looked quite startled by this display of affection and removed himself from his brother's embrace, while looking around the deserted playground to check if anyone had seen. The girl darted back behind her bush.

Finally satisfied that no one had seen him get embarrassed, Rowan returned the hug. "I didn't get hurt though, Hawthorne. I'm fine."

Hawthorne was not pleased by his brother's uncaring attitude, but said nothing more. How could he, when he had just seen his brother perform the impossible? It always troubled him when Rowan was able to do things which defied logic or didn't make sense, and in truth, it scared the hell out of him. If it was up to Hawthorne, he'd hide his little brother away from all those weird happenings and protect him from it all. However, it is hard to hide from what you don't understand and these strange occurrences seemed to be happening more and more often.

Hawthorne was shaken out of his thoughts, as Rowan grinned suddenly, mischief on the mind. "Race you to that bush!"

Taken by surprise at his brother's change of subject, Rowan followed. He even raced full-out this time, but Rowan got there first and by the time he arrived at that area of the playground, there was a squeal of shock and a skinny girl emerged.

Sliding to a stop, Hawthorne stared. What was she doing there? Rowan showed no outward surprise however and narrowed his green eyes at the girl, his red hair blazing.

"Were you spying on us?"

The dark haired girl opened and closed her mouth hopelessly, obviously regretting not having a better hiding place. She was red in the face with embarrassment. "I haven't been spying, its a _public space!_ "

"Yes," said Hawthorne. "And you're the _public disgrace_!" Hawthorne was rather pleased with this remark and he turned to Rowan, trying to usher him away from the girl. "That's the girl that lives down Spinner's End by the river. Her mother drinks and her father is, well, _weird!_ " His voice became rather shrill on the last word, horror and distaste mixed into a single syllable.

Rowan refused to let himself be tugged away by the arm, he tried to shake his brother away from him, but Hawthorne held on tight. Rowan was angry with the girl for spying on him (especially when receiving a hug), but he felt sorry for the verbal abuse that she had received from his brother. He couldn't judge her character if he didn't know anything about her, could he?

"What's your name?"

The dark haired girl looked like she wanted to merge into the bushes. More red spread across her cheeks, she tugged on one of her greasy plaits nervously.

"Gracie Prince."

* * *

 **If you thought this was any good, then please review (I don't like to beg for attention but your input would be much appreciated).**

 **Hawthorne is more overprotective than Petunia, but still has a sharp tongue. Rowan doesn't make a flower open and close because of the discovery of Gracie and he didn't want to freak Hawthorne out.**

 **In the following chapters, every character is going to be represented by the opposite gender, even the minor characters, just to make life interesting. However, I do have quite a bit planned before Gracie and Rowan join Hogwarts, so you might have to bare with me for a while.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Branch by the River

**Hello** **fan fiction lovers and welcome back to my corner of the internet (okay that sounded weird). Thank you for everyone who followed or favourited the previous chapter. I have read all of your reviews.**

 **Read and enjoy!**

* * *

"How are things at your house?"

It was several months since Rowan had first met Gracie. Weeks, since he had learnt she could do the same impossible things he could do. Days, since he had learnt about her family's situation.

Gracie's lips traced the word "fine" but she stopped herself before she could speak it out loud. "The same as usual," she sighed, shoulders sagging under the weight her parents had placed upon them.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to tell me what 'usual' is, because you've refused to let me come to yours."

"Bad" Gracie stated. She picked up a fistful of leaves and began to rip them apart, her eyes on the ground, not looking at the boy sitting next to her. "Mum has never liked magic and now that I'm almost eleven, she's worried that she'll lose me when my Hogwarts letter comes. She's becoming even more stressed and is drinking more than ever - it's like she can never do anything else but worry or drink!" Her voice became loud, angry even, but when she next spoke it was in a hush.

"She doesn't want to be left alone with him."

Rowan wasn't sure what to say. His childhood had been quite a happy one; a caring family was something Gracie had never really experienced. "What about your dad? What is the 'usual' for him?"

"I don't see him that often," Gracie admitted. The tattered leaves lay in a scattered pile at her feet, unmoving in the still autumn air. "He mostly stays in his potion's lab and he can't wait for me to go to Hogwarts. He's already telling me which families I should befriend and what House I should be in. Whenever mum complains about sending me away, he just tells her that her opinion doesn't matter... he says she doesn't know anything because she's a muggle."

A silence settled between them. The only sound was the sunlit river gurgling in the background. It was cool beneath the trees, but when Rowan shuddered it wasn't caused by the cold.

"Gracie... we will get our Hogwarts letters, won't we? Hawthorne doesn't believe in Hogwarts and says you've made it up, but I know he's wrong. I've seen the things you can do and it is just like what I can do, so it has to be real, right?"

Gracie gave a sort of snort. "If you can trust what my dad says anyway. He tells me he studied there and that it is the best school for magic, but if everyone hates muggles as much as he seems to, I'm not sure if I want to go."

Rowan blinked. "So, you're saying it makes a difference that I'm muggleborn?" He couldn't imagine being ridiculed because of his status, but living with a loving family in a small town in the midlands gave him a bit of a sheltered life.

"No!" Gracie exclaimed. "Of course not! At least, I don't think so. Dad's always going on about which families are "the right sort" meaning that there must be at least some families that don't think like that, right? Besides, you've got loads of magic, I've seen the things that you can do..."

Her voice trailed off, as Rowan's green eyes narrowed. She paused and heard a small rustling noise behind them. Gracie stared in astonishment, as Hawthorne appeared from behind a tree.

"Thorne!" said Rowan in surprise.

Gracie stood up and retreated backwards, away from the older boy. She took another step back, as Hawthorne stepped forward, trying to explain.

"What d'you want?" Gracie asked, eyes wide, terrified of how much Hawthorne had probably overheard. That conversation had been strictly private! "Who's spying now?" She asked, trying to deflect attention away from herself.

Hawthorne was slightly breathless and looked rather alarmed. Alarmed at being caught and alarmed at the rate Gracie was steadily backing away from him. He hadn't really wanted to intrude on Gracie's sob story, he had wanted to know about this mystical school she would talk about. A school where magic was not just possible, but learnt! As much as the strangeness which surrounded both Rowan and Gracie scared Hawthorne, he also was slightly fascinated by it. How come he didn't have magic as well?

"Are you alright?" Hawthorne found himself asking. It wasn't just that her behaviour was creeping him out, Rowan had berated him for being so rude when they had first met that Hawthorne went out of his way to appear (at least on the surface) polite. However, Gracie had never acknowledged that Hawthorne was trying to be kind and apologise in his own roundabout way.

"I'm fine!" Gracie snapped, her head whipping around in rage.

There was a moment when time stood still. Gracie's fists were clenched and her shredded leaves encircled her feet. Hawthorne watched her, worried about the way she was acting - he was used to girls not making much sense, but he was unable to see what had caused this display. Rowan stood confused between his brother and his friend, not sure what was going on or whose side he was supposed to take.

Then time sped up again, a loud _crack_ announced the fall of a branch above Hawthorne's head. Rowan yelped in terror: the branch caught Hawthorne on the shoulder and he staggered backwards - though more in astonishment than hurt.

"Thorne!"

Rowan turned to his friend for assistance, but the girl's eyes were round in horror. Gracie was starting to back away again. Returning to his brother, Rowan soon realised that Hawthorne wasn't seriously hurt and was just a little shaken. The brothers looked back along the river, towards Gracie, but all they saw was a pair of greasy plaits, fleeing in the direction of Spinner's End.

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 **In this universe, Gracie identifies more with** **muggles than wizards, because she is raised by her mother more than her father (as opposed to Severus who identifies more with wizards, because he was raised by his mum, who was a witch). This has further repercussions throughout the story. Also, Severus was aware of blood** **prejudice before he went to Hogwarts, so it was likely that Gracie would be exposed to the same thing (but she's more critical of it).**

 **Hawthorne and Rowan are constantly confused by Gracie's actions, not just because she's a girl (whatever Hawthorne thinks) their homelife is very different to Gracie's.**

 **Also, I hope you are enjoying reading this story as I am writing it!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Spinner's End

**Hello again! I'm back with my third chapter (obviously, you're reading this) about Hawthorne, Rowan and Gracie. I have a small sub-plot before they arrive at Hogwarts, but bare with me, they will be arriving soon! This chapter was partly inspired from a scene in Chapter 105 "By Baker Street Station, I sat Down and Wept" by Deco and was a scene I knew I would write as soon as I came up for the idea of this book.**

 **In this chapter, I introduce two new characters:**

 **Tabitha Prince = Tobias Snape**

 **Aidan Prince = Eileen Snape (neé Prince)**

 **Thank you so much for the views, favourites and follows.**

 **Me(Guest): I already have a name and scenario for the female** **version of Vernon in my plans, but you'll have to wait a while for it to get to that point, I'm afraid.**

 **James Birdsong(Guest): Obviously is not the word I'd use! I'm not the best writer and this is only for fun, but thank you for the sentiment.**

 **Enjoy reading!**

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Hawthorne stood outside the last house at Spinner's End, the October leaves twirling past as the creeping cold set in. The sun was close to the horizon, bleeding colours across the sky. In between the brick houses, the shadows seemed to lengthen faster than usual.

It was past teatime and Hawthorne stood outside the brick house, trying to gather enough courage to pass through the gate. Rowan had been at Gracie's for too long and Hawthorne's mother had sent Hawthorne to collect him.

Taking a deep breath, Hawthorne opened the rusted iron gate. It let out a mournful moan. Steadily, he walked up the garden path before he could lose his nerve. He knocked, hoping he had the right door. Every other house no the street was identical and there was no indication that it was the right door - other than the spiralling feeling of dread inside Hawthorne's stomach.

The light was fading and Hawthorne drew his arms around him as he waited, trying to fend off the October chill. Slowly, the dim streetlights flickered on and Hawthorne cursed not having thought to bring a coat or torch.

Finally, the door opened. A thin wisp of a woman stood there, dark hair and eyes so similar to Gracie's. However, Gracie didn't have a black eye or a strange slash across her cheek. The woman continued to glare at Hawthorne and he realised that he had been staring.

"Um, hello. I was wondering if Rowan was here?" Hawthorne wanted to get as far away from that shadowy house as possible; he did not want to be anywhere near Spinner's End once night properly fell.

"Rowan?" The woman frowned, not understanding.

Hawthorne frowned also, had Gracie never mentioned Rowan to her parents? "Yeah, he hangs out with Gracie sometimes. I was wondering where he was."

Gracie's mother's eyes widened slightly. "Gracie's still playing outside. If your brother is with her, then you can wait for them here." The door widened, revealing a dark hallway.

Hawthorne began to tell her that he was alright and that it wasn't necessary for him to come indoors, when he suddenly realised the alternative was waiting on the doorstep. He hurried inside. He had heard tales of what happened at Spinner's End once night fell and he really didn't want to be out there any longer than he had to.

It was even darker indoors than out, but Hawthorne knew better than to complain to his host. His mother had always taught him that manners were very important - not that Spinner's End was the sort of place manners were really appreciated.

"Come and sit in the kitchen while you're waiting."

Hawthorne was left with no choice but to follow Gracie's mum further into the house. Inside the kitchen, it was lighter than the hall as there was a fire on the stove. Washing up was piled high on top of the counters and Hawthorne lost count of how many wine bottles there were. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Hawthorne sat awkwardly as Gracie's mum continued to cook whatever it was she was cooking.

After a few minutes of waiting, a sort of grating sound came from the wall behind Hawthorne. Turning, he saw the wall fall away to form a passage from which emerged a scowling, sour-faced man. When the man noticed Hawthorne sitting there, he blinked rapidly in astonishment, as if wondering if he was real. When Hawthorne didn't disappear, his scowl deepened.

"Who is this, Tabitha?" His voice was gravelly, low and threatening, like a roll of incoming thunder.

Gracie's mum turned from the stove, her shoulders were hunched and she sort of cowered away from him. "His brother is a friend of Gracie's." She told him, her voice coming out little more than a squeak. "He's waiting for them to return, so he can take his brother back home."

Hawthorne counted the seconds till the man next spoke, as if counting the seconds between waves of thunder. He made it to seven, before the man spoke again.

"Gracie has a friend." Despite the wording, he did not phase it as a question.

Gracie's mum nodded timidly.

"Not any more," his voice was still low, thunderous, but Hawthorne felt as if there was more to come. The man's voice was rising, as if someone was turning up the volume on his words. "I WILL NOT HAVE HER RUNNING AROUND WITH SOME STUPID NEIGHBOURHOOD BOY!" His voice no longer sounded like thunder - it was electric - and Hawthorne was shocked where he stood.

"My daughter will NOT associate herself with the likes of muggles! She is a Prince! She must only be associated with what is pure, if we are ever going to be able to get a decent marriage contract!"

"Marriage!" It seemed as if Tabitha Prince had been shocked out of her trance. She was no longer cowering, instead her hands were balled into fists. "She's eleven years old! Gracie has never been able to have friends round before; who cares if it is just a boy from the local neighbourhood? Let her be a child for once, she's always worried about us and how we will react!"

"Shut up, woman! You have no idea how longterm you have to plan for the correct marriage contract, this behaviour of hers has to end now! I forbid her from seeing that boy again! As soon as she returns, she is not leaving this house until Hogwarts!" He was red in the face and Hawthorne felt another volley of thunder was on the way.

Hawthorne's eyes bulged. Gracie might not be his favourite person, she was rude and had caused a branch to fall on top of him, but this was extreme. What sort of parent doesn't allow their child to have friends?

Besides, if Gracie's father did carry out that threat, Rowan would be devastated...

"You can't do that!" he exclaimed.

"Do not tell me what to do." The thunder levels were rising again and Hawthorne tensed in preparation. "Get out of my house, you filthy muggle!"

Hawthorne hesitated, indecisive. Then, he found himself face-to-face with a stick Gracie's father was holding. Hawthorne gulped. He had the sneaking suspicion he was at wand-point with a wizard. So, Hawthorne did the most heroic thing that came to mind.

He fled.

It was only once he was out of the gate that he heard Rowan and Gracie's voices coming down Spinner's End. He could hear the tale end of Rowan's joke and Gracie's eager laughter and once more a feeling of dread clutched at his stomach.

"Thorne!" Rowan exclaimed in surprise. Gracie was also surprised and hid behind Rowan. She had not been able to look Hawthorne in the eye since the time she had run away after the branch's collapse.

There must have been an expression of alarm on Hawthorne's face, for Rowan soon frowned. "What's wrong? Why are you here?"

"You were late for tea. Mum sent me out to get you." Hawthorne swallowed. "So I went to Gracie's house looking for you and waited there for a while, but you didn't arrive and then Gracie's parents got into an argument about you being friends."

Gracie looked shell shocked. "He's mad at me isn't he?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Hawthorne swallowed and nodded.

"Goodbye Rowan," Her voice was resigned and monotonous, all traces of her laughter gone. Her greasy plaits hung wearily down her back.

"They shouldn't tell you off for who you're friends with!" Rowan's voice was indignant. "What's wrong with me?"

Hawthorne shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with you Rowan, some people are just prejudiced." He considered Gracie for a second. "You don't have to go back there if you don't want to, Gracie."

Gracie shook her head. "It's easier just to accept my punishment." She walked up the garden path with her head held high and disappeared into the house of shadows to meet her fate.

"She'll be okay, won't she?" Rowan had clasped Hawthorne's hand and gripped it tightly.

Hawthorne squeezed it back. "I hope so."

* * *

 **Please don't kill me!**

 **In this universe, Gracie's parents are equally beastly (while in canon, it was mostly Snape's dad and his mother was the victim). Gracie's father regrets leaving the wizarding world, so is determined for Gracie not to make the same "mistake". Her mum, on the other hand, dislikes and fears magic and doesn't want Gracie to go to Hogwarts at all.**

 **I'm kind of worried some of the characterisation got lost in this chapter, as I was constantly being interrupted while writing this, so sorry if the reading is slightly disjointed at times (ironically, I think it is the longest chapter I have posted on this site). I prefer the next chapter anyway (which should be up in about two days time).**


	4. Chapter 4 - Christmas

**Welcome back (or just welcome to first-time readers). This was a scene I had knocking about my brain since New Year, so Hawthorne and Rowan get snow (much luckier than me) and an idea for Christmas.**

 **In this chapter, I introduce another character (drum-roll please):**

 **Abigail Priscilla Wilma Bryony Dumbledore = Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**

 **Thank you to everyone who read, favourited, followed and reviewed the previous chapters.**

 **(Guest): Yes, I have a plan for Hawthorne and what happens to the equivalent of Dudley and Harry in this universe. In fact, when I first thought of his career while they are growing up I couldn't stop myself laughing. Do not worry, I wish to change things (although not always for the better) and I love irony.**

 **Enjoy reading!**

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The winter was vicious and cold in Cokeworth. Snow settled on the towering mill chimney and the rooftops of all the brick houses. The river was frozen at the edges, the shores slippery as the river wound its way through the town.

Hawthorne sat on the banks of the river, a thick scarf wrapped around his long neck as his breath steamed out in front of him. Sighing, he skimmed another pebble across the water. He had neither seen nor heard from Gracie in the past month and was becoming increasing worried about her. He also felt responsible for her imprisonment; if only he had never gone to Spinner's End...

Rowan had blamed him, of course. It had gotten to the point that he refused to talk to him, only accentuating Hawthorne's sense of guilt. The tense silences inside their home made him feel uncomfortable and he had felt the need to the leave the house all the more often. Their parents were curious about what had caused the boys to argue, but hadn't pursued the issue very much - their only question had been if a girl was involved.

Hawthorne lobbed another stone upriver. Their parents loved them very much, but often left Rowan and Hawthorne to their own devices. They had assumed it would all blow over soon enough and that everything would be fine by the new year.

Flinging another rock, it sank with a disappointing _plop_.

Walking along the bank, Hawthorne searched for another suitable stone. Hawthorne probably would have been able to ignore his sense of responsibility for Gracie's situation if it hadn't been for Rowan. His heart drooped as he remembered seeing Rowan return from Spinner's End last night. Rowan had refused to look Hawthorne in the eyes and had simply tossed a badly wrapped present onto the coffee table, undelivered.

It made Hawthorne's stomach feel as if it was lined with lead. He hated to see his little brother hurt like this.

Wandering through the town, Hawthorne let his legs carry him away from the river, absorbed in his thoughts. He wound himself between the identical brick houses, breath steaming out in front of him. How could he fix this? Hawthorne felt so alone, not to mention powerless. He wasn't magic and saw no way to handle the problem - why couldn't he be a wizard like Rowan? If he could just wave a magic wand and make everything better in an instant, Hawthorne most certainly would.

Hawthorne was dragged out of his thoughts when he tripped on the pavement. Stumbling forwards, Hawthorne scratched his knees, tearing a hole in his trousers. Grasping a garden gate, Hawthorne pulled himself upright. Ignoring his stinging leg, Hawthorne's eyes widened, suddenly realising where he was.

Spinner's End.

Gazing up at the dark windows at the end of the street, Hawthorne noticed a small face draw back behind the curtains. Hawthorne couldn't help but gasp. Even from a distance, he could tell that Gracie's face was scarred and bruised. She was in a bad state.

He waited, but Gracie didn't look out of the window again. The fearful look in her eyes had told him that she was afraid of being punished. Hawthorne turned away, he didn't want to get her in any more trouble.

However, Hawthorne knew he couldn't ignore Gracie's mistreatment any longer, now that he had seen it with his own eyes. Sprinting back home, an idea began to form in Hawthorne's mind - sure, he would need Rowan's help - but it was better than doing nothing and getting help from an adult was always a good idea in Hawthorne's opinion.

Hawthorne burst into Rowan's room, door crashing in its frame. Rowan looked up, surprised. He even forgot to be angry with him.

"Are you alright, Thorne? What happened?"

Gasping for breath after his run outdoors, Hawthorne was bent double, but he used this time to plan his next words. He needed Rowan to take his side.

"I have an idea." Hawthorne announced between gulps of air "about Gracie."

Rowan sat up. He had his full attention. Rowan fixed him with his bright green eyes. "This had better not be a joke Thorne."

Hawthorne fought the urge to shudder he had never heard Rowan's voice become so low and threatening. It worried him; they had never fallen out like this before. "I know you don't think we should talk to any adults about this, you know, because of... magic and everything." Hawthorne briefly wondered why he would always hesitate before saying the m-word aloud, before shaking it off as a concern for another time.

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" Rowan's tone grew deadly, green eyes narrowing further.

Hawthorne tried not to roll his eyes - as if anyone would believe him about magic! "No, of course not," he reassured him, "well, at least not yet."

Rowan moved so quickly, he was almost a blur. He stood in front of the door. "You're not telling mum and dad!" He practically screeched.

"Ssshh! Lower your voice!" Hawthorne hissed. "Unless you want mum and dad to find out from your screaming, I suggest you lock the door and listen to me."

Slowly, Rowan turned the key in the lock and went to sit back down on his bed. "I'm listening."

"Um," suddenly, Hawthorne felt a lot less confident after his outburst. What if his plan just made things worse? "What's happening to Gracie is illegal. Her father is treating her so badly that if the police found out they'd lock him up, right?"

Rowan sighed. "Yeah, but he'd probably just magic himself out."

"I know, but if its illegal with the..." Hawthorne struggled to think of the word Gracie had used. "The muggles. Then surely it must be illegal among wizards as well?"

Rowan stared at him, his mind obviously following Hawthorne's logic. "That's a pretty good assumption." He frowned. "I don't know how to contact the Ministry of Magic though."

Hawthorne struggled not to have his mind blown that the wizards had their own _Ministry_ , but returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. "So there's no way we could contact anyone in the wizarding world? No one Gracie mentioned?"

"Usually the first contact a muggleborn gets from the school is their Hogwarts letter, there's no communication before they turn eleven."

Hawthorne tried not to scream in frustration. They couldn't wait for Rowan's birthday! Hawthorne kicked himself internally, feeling stupid for getting Rowan's hopes up. It had seemed like such a good idea as well! He slumped down on the bed next to Rowan.

"Although... maybe we could contact them instead." Rowan mused.

Hawthorne sat up again. "You have someone we could contact?"

"It's just a name Gracie mentioned, but its worth a try."

"Well," Hawthorne snapped impatiently, fighting the urge to pace the bedroom until his brother gave him a straight answer "who is it?"

"Abby Dumbledore."

* * *

 **Yep, that was my sad attempt at a cliff-hanger.**

 **This chapter was mostly dedicated to the character development of Hawthorne, to show his thought process (and to find a way to save Gracie). Notice that Hawthorne thinks magic can fix anything, just with a wave of a wand and still finds it difficult to say the word "magic". Hawthorne, like Petunia, does things that he regrets, but unlike Petunia he wants to do something about it.**

 **Also, Rowan's cold demeanour towards Hawthorne is a sign of what might await _if_ the brothers fall out about magic like Lily and Petunia did. After having tasted Rowan's fury, Hawthorne is less likely to want to get on Rowan's bad-side again.**

 **Feel free to yell at me now.**


	5. Chapter 5 - The Playground Again

**Hello readers, sorry I missed the last update. Here's two chapters at once!** **This part of the story seems to be dragging on forever, as I am writing it in several points of view per chapter, but the plot is moving forwards! Never fear, Gracie and Rowan will soon be at Hogwarts.**

 **Thank you to everyone who read, favourited, followed or reviewed (I appreciate it!).**

* * *

Hawthorne and Rowan sat on the swings in the playground. It was getting lighter now, but the nights were still long and in Hawthorne's case, sleepless. The playground just didn't seem like the same place they had first met Gracie in the summer; there was no more races or challenges and no more displays of magic.

Rowan had said that wizards send their post by owl, but they had no idea where to get one, so they sent it through the muggle postal service, hoping against hope that someone magical would find their letter. The following weeks had been full of hopelessness and anxiety. Hawthorne had been sure that some postman would see the address and simply burn it - how could they go about delivering a letter to one of the most powerful witches on the planet?

Therefore, it had been to their great surprise to receive a letter (on a Sunday no less!) from a tawny owl which landed on Rowan's windowsill. The letter had been handwritten on a piece of thick parchment, the ink glistening as if still wet. Rowan had ripped it open immediately, desperate to hear the Headmistress' reply. Hawthorne had sat behind, reading over Rowan's shoulder, while gently stroking the messenger bird.

The letter had informed them that she would check-in on Gracie and if she was concerned for her welfare, she would inform the Ministry. Hawthorne felt deflated - was that it? That was the only outcome of all their effort? Hawthorne fumed, but after that, there had been nothing left to do, but wait for somebody else to take action.

Hawthorne had soon discovered that waiting for something was both incredibly boring and aggravating. Why should they wait, when they could go over to Spinner's End _right now_ and solve the problem? Still, Hawthorne stayed seated on the swing. If he just went rushing in there, he could make things worse for Gracie and then Rowan would never forgive him for it.

Sighing, Hawthorne swung back and forth, wondering why the Headmistress couldn't just magic the situation better. To just wave her wand and have Gracie's parents no longer fighting or beating each other, no more Gracie locked indoors with her father's magic directed at her.

Rowan had been tense since Dumbledore's reply, not talking very much and staring into space, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. He sat on his swing, unmoving, feet inches from the ground. Hawthorne resisted the urge to pull him into a tight hug and tell him everything would be alright, but he knew they were both to old for that now. Also, Hawthorne didn't know if everything would be alright. Neither of them did.

* * *

Abigail Too-Many-Names Dumbledore was used to letters asking for aid (she'd had too many pleas for help from the Minister of Magic himself!) what she wasn't used to were those letters being from under-age muggleborn wizards worried about their friends. She was quite endeared to the fact that the children were worried about their friend, but she didn't believe the situation was as bad as they made out.

Knocking on the door, Abigail smiled absent-mindedly. She always had loved muggles, but seeing as there were wizards in this household, she was wearing her normal robes out of convenience.

"Hello?" A woman's head appeared through the doorway, dark hair forming curtains around her face.

Dumbledore smiled. "Abby Dumbledore. May I come in?"

The woman took in Dumbledore's appearance. Her eyes widened at the sight of the robes and travelling cloak, while giving an almost gasp at the white hair (she never could be bothered to dye it) and half-moon spectacles. She swung the door open and told her in an apologetic tone that they hadn't been expecting visitors.

"Oh, don't worry about that, I didn't exactly make an appointment." Dumbledore waved her hand. "I just thought it would be good to drop in."

Escorting her to the kitchen, Tabitha Prince offered Dumbledore a seat, which she graciously accepted.

"He's in the potions lab." She informed him. "I have never been able to get inside, so I'm afraid you'll just have to wait until he gets hungry."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but did not comment on it. "And your daughter?"

Tabitha stiffened and Dumbledore got the impression that she did not like the change of subject. "Yes, she's upstairs."

"I was wondering if I could speak to her - it wouldn't be too much trouble would it?" Dumbledore gave her best harmless-grandmother smile, the one which usually made people relax in her company and forget that she was one of the most powerful witches on the planet.

Mrs Prince's face darkened further and she looked like she wanted to argue, but decided to think better of it. "Certainly."

Dumbledore sat in the kitchen by herself, humming under her breath while she waited. Tabitha Prince appeared to be one of those muggles who didn't like magic, but tolerated it for the most part. However, as she spied the mountain of empty wine bottles covering the kitchen counters, Dumbledore began to wonder how easy that tolerance truly was.

The female Princes entered the kitchen, distracting Dumbledore from her thoughts. A ten year old girl with her hair undone from their plaits sat down at the table beside her. Her hair was greasy and wavy from when it was plaited, forming a curtain between Dumbledore and the girl's face. Tabitha had a sour look upon her face, but it disappeared whenever she glanced at her daughter, her anxiety and concern for the girl obvious.

"Hello Gracie," Dumbledore smiled. "Let me introduce myself, I am Abigail Dumbledore, Headmistress of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Tabitha's gaze darkened once more. Dumbledore was getting the distinct impression that she didn't like the wizarding world very much and she liked Hogwarts even less. It was a reaction that wasn't unheard of in families where there are both muggle and wizard parents.

"Have you come to give me my Hogwarts letter?" Gracie's young voice came from behind the curtain. "I thought the professors only came if you were muggleborn?"

Ah, so Miss Prince had an intelligent mind, Dumbledore noted. That was interesting. She must be a good friend too, if her friends were so worried about her. "Usually, yes, the professors will come to explain things to muggle parents, but for the time being..." Dumbledore patted down her robes; she was sure she'd had it!

"Aha!" Dumbledore pulled out Gracie's letter from her pocket, along with a selection of toffees she was rather fond of. "Here is your letter, Miss Prince, oh and have a toffee while you're at it."

Behind the wavy curtain of greased hair, Dumbledore caught the glimpse of a smile, as the girl accepted a toffee. She unwrapped her sweet first, before opening her letter, Dumbledore noticed - perhaps she was savouring the moment? Dumbledore liked to think so. Whenever a student opened their letter, it was the start of many plentiful years of magic.

Like lightning, Tabitha grabbed the letter from the kitchen table, her eyes carrying a steely glint. "She's not going!" Dumbledore looked startled at her outburst, so she quickly backtracked. "I mean, shouldn't we wait for your father before you open your letter, Gracie? I'm sure he'd love to be here to watch." She was delaying for time and everyone at that table knew it.

"Well, it is Gracie's choice of when she wants to open it." Dumbledore stated, not unkindly. Gracie's mother did not look reassured.

Gracie tried to comment on the matter, but her mouth was full of toffee and no coherent words could be distinguished. Therefore, it was just their luck that the passage from the potion's lab opened at that very moment, revealing the permanently scowling Adrian Prince.

Eyes widening, Gracie attempted to grab her Hogwarts letter, but her mother held onto it tightly and she had to admit defeat. Turning to her father, Gracie tried to explain the situation, though with her teeth glued together with toffee, that made the job rather difficult.

"Mmmhh, mmm mmhm-!" Was all she managed to get out before her father's scowl deepened, as he entered the room.

* * *

 **Finally the plot is going somewhere! Unfortunately, the fight scene is still two chapters away, but that gives me more time to edit it (I suck at writing fight scenes).**

 **I never really intended for this chapter to be in Dumbledore's point of view (it was meant to be Gracie's and Hawthorne's), but it just sort of... happened.**

 **Gracie has had her face hidden throughout her meeting with Dumbledore and has now received her Hogwarts letter (but hasn't opened it yet). Hawthorne and Rowan managed to contact Dumbledore through the muggle post (I always did wonder how Petunia made that work - personally I agree with Snape and there must have been wizards working undercover in the postal service).**

 **Enjoy the next chapter, which I am going to upload immediately after this one.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Confrontation

**Yay, a double update!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Dumbledore hated bullies. She especially hated it when innocent people got hurt in the process.

Therefore, when when Adrian Prince raised his wand and tossed a hex into the kitchen, screaming about blood traitors in his house, Dumbledore reacted quite calmly. She drew her wand of elder in a single, swift motion, pointing it directly at Aidan's face.

"Mr Prince, would you kindly lower your wand and sit down at the table?" Despite the kindly smile upon her face and the lightness of her tone, there was an underlying threat beneath her words and the Slytherin in Gracie's father understood the situation at once.

He did the sensible thing when Dumbledore is pointing a wand at your face: you do what you're told.

"Now that we are all sat here, we can begin to discuss the matter at hand." Dumbledore smiled at the Princes sitting around the kitchen table. Both adults were glaring at the Headmistress, while Gracie looked like she was trying to merge herself into her chair. Dumbledore pretended she didn't notice, she had discovered over the years that if you feigned ignorance to people who disliked you, it annoyed the hell out of them. She found it rather satisfying.

"Although, now would be a great time for Gracie to open her letter," Dumbledore smiled gently, encouraging to Gracie's trembling hands, but gloating to the parents. Abby was less than pleased with Mr Prince's behaviour, yet knew their were many parents of students with much the same attitude towards blood purity. It was always better to get them away to Hogwarts before the child started believing their parents' words.

However, Dumbledore did think that Adrian was a bit of a hypocrite about blood purity - being married to a muggle and all - but often wizards discovered that living with muggle wasn't as easy as it looked and often returned to blood supremacy. Dumbledore sighed at the potential for peace that was often lost.

Gracie ripped open the wax seal, pulling out her acceptance letter. Her mother put her head in her hands, while her father muttered something else about muggle-loving fools. The almost-eleven year old girl stared at it for a second, as if in disbelief (although Dumbledore couldn't be sure if it was disbelief, the curtain of hair masked Gracie's expressions). In that moment, there was a sense of reverence in the air.

"She's not going!" Tabitha stood.

Adrian's scowl became violent. "My daughter will learn from only the best! The contacts she will gain at Hogwarts will be invaluable!"

"Gracie's not just _your_ daughter! She doesn't have to go to that school - she can stay here - you can't just plan her entire life for her!" Tabitha's shouting filled the kitchen.

Both Adrian and Abigail drew their wands simultaneously. Gracie froze in place.

* * *

Rowan knew that he shouldn't go to Spinner's End. It was illogical; he should just wait until the Headmistress could sort it out. However, despite Rowan being rather talented and bright academically, he could be rather reckless at times. This appeared to be one of them.

Rowan hurried down the narrow streets, between the identical brick houses which had seen better days. He hated giving Hawthorne the slip, but knew that if he told his brother of his intentions, Hawthorne would surely stop him. Hawthorne always had been one to suck up to adults and let them sort out all his problems. Rowan, on the other hand, would often defy authority if he thought that action was necessary. He just wasn't going to let some stranger help Gracie, meanwhile he sat by and did nothing.

Reaching the end of the street, Rowan stared up at the dark, brick house. It fit in perfectly with its muggle surroundings. From the outside, no one would guess it was the residence of wizards. Rowan pushed open the iron gate, before thinking better of it. Was he simply going to march straight in there?

Darting off to the side of the house, Rowan followed a narrow lane that ran between the houses. He found himself on a small slipway into the river, behind the houses of Spinner's End. Climbing over the bedraggled hedge which bordered the Princes' property and the river, Rowan crept stealthily towards the blackened windows of Gracie's house. It was so dark inside, that Rowan could barely see in.

Sensing movement through the window, Rowan ducked out of sight, crouching beneath the windowsill, straining his ears for news. For a long time, Rowan heard only murmurs from indoors, nothing coherent. Until, Rowan heard a voice like thunder and another yelling. Desperate to know what was going on, Rowan returned to spying through the window. He was just in time to see beams of light being shot inside, illuminating the kitchen within.

He had never seen wizards battle before. Rowan fought back a gasp as he took in the scene before him: Gracie's father was shooting light from his wand, which an old woman (Rowan assumed Dumbledore) was deflecting them. It was obvious that the woman was the better duelist, but she had the disadvantage of trying not to hit Gracie or her mother in their tiny kitchen. Gracie's father, however, didn't seem to have a problem with desperately shooting curses in a small, enclosed space.

Rowan tried to figure out his next move. What had begun as a simple information-gathering expedition had turned sour, meaning Rowan was left with few options but to create an emergency extraction plan to rescue his friend from what was fast becoming a battlefield. Today, it seemed, was the day Rowan was going to many stupid and reckless things.

Wrenching the backdoor open, Rowan grabbed Gracie who was still sat at the kitchen table clutching her acceptance letter, frozen with shock. Pulling them both under the kitchen table, Rowan got them out of the worst of the crossfire. It was under that table that the two friends celebrated their reunion.

"Rowan?" Gracie asked, her voice hoarse with tears prickling her eyes.

Rowan nodded, pulling her into a hug.

The two friends sat under the kitchen table, secure in their embrace, illuminated by the flashes of red and green light.

* * *

 **I wasn't going to leave that chapter there, but I loved Gracie and Rowan's reunion so much I kind of wanted to finish the chapter on that note.**

 **Next chapter, we return to Hawthorne's perspective and we have the fight scene. Yeah, I'm putting Gracie and Rowan in a battle scene before they even arrive at** **Hogwarts. Deal with it.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Rescue Mission

**Hello again. I'm a bit ill at the moment, so excuse any mistakes during this chapter. Thank you to everyone who read, followed and favourited.**

 **Joeaux: Thank you for the recommendation, it made an interesting read.**

 **Enjoy reading!**

* * *

Hawthorne knew he shouldn't have let Rowan run off. He had known his little brother had been trying to lose him at the playground, but he hadn't thought he was going to be _that_ stupid. Obviously, he had been mistaken.

After giving Rowan a good ten minutes headstart, Hawthorne did the natural thing when someone is acting strangely. He followed him. Of course, this wasn't normal behaviour for Hawthorne, as he knew Rowan could more-or-less fend for himself, but since Rowan had been rather distraught about Gracie's predicament, he thought it would be best just to check he didn't get himself into any trouble.

That was how Hawthorne found himself hiding behind a tree across the river when Rowan approached the slipway. Hawthorne tried not to roll his eyes when Rowan placed around suspiciously before straddling the garden hedge. It had almost been easy to anticipate his brother, taking the shortcut through the woodland had enabled him to arrive before his little brother and Hawthorne's position in the trees gave him an optimum view of his movements.

It was times like this when Hawthorne thought his long neck was rather useful; it made spying so much easier.

Lying low in the bushes, Hawthorne watched as Rowan ducked under the window out of sight of the occupants inside. It was several minutes before anything interesting happened. Hawthorne was unable to catch any noises from inside, as he was so far away and struggled to fight off the boredom.

Suddenly, Rowan leapt up to the window and looked in with an expression of horror which Hawthorne could see even from the opposite riverbank. Hawthorne was powerless to do anything but observe, as Rowan wrenched open the back door and ran indoors. Unable to process what was going on, Hawthorne sprinted from his hiding place.

What was going on? Why had Rowan gone inside, when Gracie's father hates both muggles and muggleborns? Was Gracie hurt? Hawthorne swallowed a lump in his throat. _What if Rowan gets hurt?_

Hawthorne was running so fast, it felt like he was flying. He soared over the river and bounded over the garden hedge. All he knew was that Rowan and Gracie were in trouble and he wasn't going to let anything happen to his brother (or his brother's best friend, too, he supposed).

It was only once Hawthorne was standing in the doorway of the kitchen that he was able to gauge the situation and he was not enthused by what he saw. Rowan and Gracie were huddled under the kitchen table, while around them wine bottles smashed and kitchen utensils imploded. All this chaos was being caused by the adults in the room: Gracie's mother was screaming and shouting, while wielding a frying pan; Gracie's father was shouting insults at everyone and shooting spells from his wand; and an old woman was deflecting spells, casting shields to protect Rowan, Gracie and her mother and also returning fire with Gracie's father.

Hawthorne ducked, as another stream of light rebounded around the small kitchen. He had to get them out of there! Once again, Hawthorne cursed not having magic of his own, having powers would be useful when entering a war zone. Dancing between death rays, Hawthorne hid himself under the table with Gracie and Rowan.

"Could you stop hugging for a minute? We kind of need to get out of here!" The twin glares at Hawthorne's tactlessness were ineffective - Hawthorne would let them hug when they weren't in danger - he wasn't completely insensitive.

Finally, Gracie broke off their embrace. "He's right, we can't stay hiding under this table forever."

"Shouldn't we just wait it out?" Rowan asked, neglecting to voice his question of how Hawthorne had known to find them. "I think we are much safer under here to be honest."

Hawthorne thought his little brother could be a bit thick sometimes. "It's a table Rowan, it isn't much protection." _Unless wizards enchanted kitchen tables to be spell-proof, that is._

"We can't stay here." Gracie agreed, wiping her eyes from a few stray tears.

"We can't just randomly run out into the crossfire either," Rowan said. "We'd have to time it."

Hawthorne frowned, remembering the dance moves he had had to pull to reach the table. He shuddered to think of going out there again, away from the relative safety of the table (despite the table being very little protection in the first place).

"You go first," Hawthorne told him. "I'll bring up the rear with Gracie."

Rowan nodded, trusting his brother to protect his friend. He scrambled out from under the kitchen table, dodging spells on his way to the backdoor.

"Ready?" Hawthorne asked, as Dumbledore hurled a wall of water across the kitchen.

Gracie nodded back, a determined smile touching her lips, through the greased curtain of her hair.

"Three, Two, One... Go!"

The two of them dived towards their exit, or rather, Hawthorne did. Gracie doubled back and grabbed her mother's arm, which was waving a frying pan threateningly at both Dumbledore and her husband, yelling abuse. It was a miracle she hadn't already been hit.

Turning back the way he came, Hawthorne ran to help Gracie remove her mother from the kitchen, out of harm's way. Taking an arm each, they led her through the maelstrom of spells, praying that they would still be alive by the time they exited the kitchen. Rowan was standing by the backdoor, motioning them to hurry. Adrian was flinging spells in every direction, not caring who he hit. Dumbledore was trying to shield the innocent, while deflecting the spells that were rebounding from the kitchen walls. There didn't appear to be a single unbroken object inside the entire house.

It was when the trio reached the door that it happened. Adrian had sent a variety of curses in Dumbledore's direction, then immediately after transfigured the kitchen table into an enraged bull which promptly charged the Headmistress. Enraged bulls in tiny kitchens were never a good combination. Using Dumbledore's distraction to his advantage, Adrian sent another volley of curses from his wand.

Despite this, a smile had spread upon Gracie's face, as she realised she had made it out. She was alive! Turning to her mother and Hawthorne, Hawthorne echoed her smile of relief. Only the relief did not last long. With rogue spells rebounding off the walls it was only a matter of time until one of them got hit and single beam of blue light hit Tabitha. Her back arched and a scream left her lips as the curse hit her, before crumpling into a heap.

The scream attracted Adrian's attention and Dumbledore used it to gain the advantage. However, it was unnecessary, Adrian knew what he had done to his wife and in his horror, the will to fight soon left him.

* * *

 **While Adrian Prince hates muggles and hates his wife, he did love her once. How he reacts to this tragedy will be seen in later chapters.**

 **Also, Rowan trusts his brother to protect Gracie, even though he doesn't have magic. The full repercussions of what happened to Tabitha Prince will be shown in time, with a small section to what happens to her in the next chapter.**

 **Oh, and Dumbledore kicked ass. Anyone surprised?**

 **I hope at least managed to make the fight scene interesting, big battles are usually quite boring for me to read.**


	8. Chapter 8 - St Mungo's

**Hello everyone (and new readers). I'm still feeling ill.**

 **The next couple chapters are going to be a mish-mash of all of the characters' different perspectives. I'm kind of rushing to get to Hogwarts.**

 **Thank you to all of the lovely people who reviewed and thank you to everyone who read, followed or favourited.**

 **Enjoy reading!**

* * *

Gracie sat beside her mother's bed, holding her mother's limp hand between her own. Visiting hours were almost over, but Gracie clung desperately to her mother, not wanting to leave.

It had been twelve weeks since her mother had been admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and her future was looking as bleak as the moment she had arrived. Muggles were a common sight on the fourth floor, other than duelists, they were in the majority for spell damage. However, most of them were separated into separate wards to wizards, before they were obliviated upon release.

Tabitha Prince, on the other hand, was in a ward mainly containing wizards. Due to the unlikelihood of her waking up, let alone recovering to the extent for obliviation to be an option, she was kept in the Janus Thickey Ward along with the other permanent residents due to long-term spell damage. Gracie sat beside the new vase of flowers on the desk, waiting for any sign of improvement. Anything to show that her mother would someday recover.

But nothing came. No twitching muscles, not a sigh of pain, just the steady rise and fall of her mother's chest.

Eleven year old Gracie Prince sat down by her broken parent and wept.

* * *

Hawthorne sat at the quiet dinner table, not a word had been said since they had entered the dining room. Mealtime in the Evans household was usually a pleasant affair, with Mr Evans' lame jokes and the brothers' casual banter between them, Mrs Evans looking disapprovingly at them whenever the brotherly teasing got out of hand.

The silence was almost deafening.

Hawthorne watched, as Gracie continued to push her food around her plate. She had barely eaten since she was liberated from Spinner's End and Mrs Evans had been increasingly distressed at her appetite. Hawthorne glanced across at his little brother, his eyes fixed on his plate. Rowan had been rather shocked when Dumbledore had explained magic to their parents and their decision to become Gracie's temporary guardians until her father's trial next month. At first, Rowan had been ecstatic that his friend would be living with him, but Gracie was unable to return the enthusiasm.

They were all glad that Gracie was now safe from her family - they just wished it hadn't come at such a large price. Every Saturday, Mr Evans would drive Gracie up to London to visit her mother. Every Saturday, Hawthorne became less certain that he'd ever see Gracie smile again. It seemed that Gracie was fading away, lost in a spiral of despair. Hawthorne wished she didn't take Rowan down with her, he couldn't stand to see the two of them like this.

When it came to the end of the meal, there was a feeling of relief all round. All three children ran upstairs to their separate rooms. Gracie slept in the spare room, the only furniture her bed, desk and wardrobe. Gracie had refused to bring her belongings from Spinner's End. When the Evans family had tried to collect her stuff, they had to agree that there wasn't much worth salvaging.

Hawthorne sat in his own room, with his head in his hands. Why did life have to be so difficult? He had thought that as soon as they managed to rescue Gracie from her parents everything would go back to normal, but if anything it had gotten worse. Now, Hawthorne really was at loss for what to do.

Glancing across the landing, Hawthorne's eyes flickered towards Gracie's bedroom door, wondering if he should confront her about how her behaviour was affecting Rowan. He was worried about both of them. However, the last time Hawthorne had tried to help them both, Gracie's mum had been hospitalised. What if in trying to help this time round, he would just make things worse?

Hawthorne pulled out a book and turned its pages, unseeing. Maybe he should just stay out of their business.

* * *

Adrian Prince sat in the holding cell inside the Auror Headquarters. It was cold and uncomfortable, but Adrian knew he deserved it. He shouldn't have thrown that curse - what had he been thinking when his daughter was in the room?

It had been a long time since Adrian had admitted to anyone (even himself) that he still loved his wife. The constant arguments and fights had got int the way of that fact, along with his homesickness for a family which would no longer accept him. Adrian sat in his cell and wept. He knew that he would be facing Azkaban as soon as the trial was over, some of the purebloods might ignore attacking a muggle, but child endangerment was an offence which no one would be willing to overlook.

A small spider spun its web in the corner of the room. Adrian watched it weave its silken threads as a way to pass the time and thought about his daughter. Gracie was a delicate little girl; she'd seen them fight to many times, always being told to pick a side. He just hoped that she was alright wherever she was. Hopefully it was somewhere far away from where her mother was being held.

Adrian closed his eyes inside the cold and empty cell. She would be at Hogwarts soon - she would be safe from her mother there.

* * *

With a crash, Gracie slammed the bedroom door behind her. She was sick of everyone treating her like she was so... breakable. As if at the slightest movement, she would smash into a thousand pieces. Sometimes she wished everyone else _would_ smash into a thousand pieces.

Part of her, a secret part of her, was relieved. The nightmare was over. She could see her friend Rowan everyday, her parents were no longer fighting and she didn't have to spend the rest of her life locked away inside her room.

Gracie despised that part of her.

How _dare_ she feel relieved! Did she have no love, no loyalty to her parents? Her father was facing Azkaban because of her and her mother was in St. Mungos because of her! It was all her fault - she should have stopped them from fighting in the first place - why hadn't she stopped them like usual? She should feel ashamed of herself.

She curled up under the covers of her duvet. Gracie hated the knowledge that Rowan was getting upset about her behaviour, she knew it was all her fault and it was yet another reason she should lock herself away in her room. If she didn't go out, then maybe she wouldn't get anyone else hurt. That way nothing would happen to Rowan - he wouldn't end up in St. Mungos nor Azkaban, he'd be safe. Safe from Gracie, because she knew that his sadness was all her fault.

Gracie lay on the bed in the foetal position. She hated to see Rowan get hurt like this and every time she saw his face at meals she wanted to blurt out an apology, but she knew it was better if he stayed away.

Tears soaked the bedsheets, bad things always seemed to follow her.

* * *

All the while, Tabitha Prince lay comatose on her hospital bed. The regular long-term patients of the Janus Thickey Ward let out their usual mournful cries around her, but still she did not react. The hospital staff had been unable to find a way to revive her - the spell had obviously been homemade and they were unsure if a full reversal would even be possible. Little did they know, the curse had yet to take full effect, for the final outcome far too horrible to contemplate.

But until then, Tabitha Prince lay on a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of the world around her.

* * *

 **This chapter was rather hard to write, so please tell me what I could do to improve. The character development in this chapter was mostly centred around each character's sense of guilt about what happened. I don't have much planned about Tabitha's curse for a while though, so any theories about what happened will be taken on board. Next chapter is Adrian's trial.**


	9. Chapter 9 - On Trial

**Hello again (Yay, I'm no longer ill!)**

 **I kind of hate legal jargon, so I'm going to sort of skim over it.**

 **Thank you again to anyone who reviewed, read, followed or favourited the previous chapters!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Gracie Prince sat on the bench inside the courtroom, fidgeting with the pastille-blue sundress she had been forced to wear. Mrs Evans had insisted that she look smart for her father's trial and had forced her into the second-hand dress which looked like it had gone out of fashion years ago. Gracie thought she preferred the ridiculous cloaks her father would always force her into when she was little.

Beside her, Rowan and Hawthorne sat, as the other witnesses who had given their testament. Dumbledore was currently giving her witness, but Gracie blocked out her words, she didn't want to hear it. In an attempt to look anywhere but her father's eyes, Gracie fixed her gaze on the Wizengamot seated on the benches above her.

The courtroom was dark and cold, with aurors stationed near her father. Gracie wasn't sure how she felt about this, when her father had agreed to being guilty of all charges, a sort of rope had slithered and constricted in her stomach. Holding back her emotions, Gracie forced her face to look blank. She refused to look in her father's direction.

"Therefore you have been sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban." A stern looking man continued.

Gracie blinked. Was the trial over already? Looking around, she saw that Dumbledore had already sat down at the witness bench.

From the edges of the courtroom, the aurors advanced menacingly.

"Wait! You don't know what the curse does!" Adrian cried out. "You have to let me fix it!"

The stern man looked back at him unsympathetically. "I think you have done quite enough damage, Mr. Prince."

"But you can't! What happens when she wakes up?" Her father looked positively distraught at this idea, eyes bulging in his usually-scowling face.

He kicked and yelled, as the aurors removed him from the courtroom. It was the last time Gracie ever saw her father.

* * *

After the trial, Gracie had spent even more time visiting her mother. Rowan was worried. She still hadn't spoken to him about it, in fact she had barely spoken to him in weeks. He wondered if she blamed him for what happened to her parents, it had been his stupid idea to rush in there like an idiot, after all.

However, that wasn't the only reason he was worried. His parents had been announced temporary guardians until the trial, due to most of Gracie's relatives being dead or they had disowned her father. What Rowan hadn't been able to tell her yet, was that her father's parents had heard about her father's trial and had entered a bid for guardianship of Gracie. With his best friend barely talking to him, Rowan had yet to find the right time to tell her.

Hogwarts was fast approaching. Rowan's parents had scheduled a shopping trip to a place called Diagon Alley with one of the school's professors in two weeks time. On the whole, Rowan was very excited about getting his school equipment - Rowan only hoped that Gracie would be talking to him by then.

* * *

Hawthorne had backed off since the trial, trying not to get in either Gracie or Rowan's way. Unfortunately, Gracie still appeared to be ignoring Rowan and despite all his promises not to, Hawthorne found himself knocking smartly on Gracie's bedroom door three days before the trip to Diagon.

Sighing when there was no reply, Hawthorne knocked again, smartly. Nothing.

Giving an even heavier sigh, Hawthorne gave a raucous battering on the door and didn't abate until the door slipped open.

"Honestly, Rowan, can't you tell that I'm-" Gracie stopped as she saw who it was was. "Oh."

"Look, Gracie, can I come in?" Hawthorne said, as Gracie defended the doorway.

"Oh," Gracie still looking surprised to see him. "Um, okay."

Hawthorne took in the undecorated walls, lack of personal belongings and the standardised furniture. Gracie's room had no sense of life about it, making it feel emptier than it was. The lack of items in the room meant the walls had their voices echoing back to them slightly.

Gracie sat down on the bed and due to the lack of seats, Hawthorne sat cross-legged on the floor. Hawthorne particularly disliked the seating arrangement, it meant he was lower down than Gracie, making what he was about to ask seem even more outrageous.

"Gracie," Hawthorne looked into the younger girl's dark eyes, trying to hold her attention. The black orbs gazed back at him, curious about what he was going to say.

Hawthorne took a deep breath. "Why are you avoiding Rowan?"

Immediately, the girl's eyes broke away from his, staring determinedly at the floor. She stayed like that for a while, unanswering, thinking of the best reply. Eventually deciding rudeness was her best option, Gracie returned her coal black eyes to the older boy. All warmth had left them and Hawthorne was left staring down a pair of dark and bottomless pits.

"That," she sneered, her voice full of venom, "is none of your business." Personally, Gracie was rather proud of that. She hadn't expected her voice to come out half as menacingly. Her black greasy hair hung outside of their plaits, like curtains, framing her pale face. The worn yellow sundress Mrs Evans had given her to wear rather ruined the effect, but otherwise Gracie liked to consider herself almost intimidating.

Hawthorne wasn't fooled. "He's my brother: that makes it my business."

Gracie knitted her eyebrows together, it took her far too long to think of another scathing remark. Mentally promising to think up some witty comebacks for the next time she was in a confrontation, Gracie groaned in frustration and decided to tell the truth.

"I don't want him to get hurt."

"Well you've failed there, then" Hawthorne replied. Gracie looked back at him with wide eyes, startled. "Ignoring him has hurt him more than some curse ever could." Hawthorne practically growled out the words and Gracie found herself looking into the eyes of a very angry big brother.

For the first time since Gracie had met the Evans boys, she felt scared. Gracie had never seen Hawthorne angry before and his eyes were stormy, churning with rage. His fists were clenched in his lap, but Gracie could see them tremble slightly, showing just how much restraint he was using.

Suddenly, Hawthorne rose to his feet, tension rippling off his body. Gracie leapt back, scrambling to the other end of the bed. Hawthorne wouldn't really hurt her would he? But hadn't he just said how much she had hurt his little brother? Maybe he was going to try and teach her a lesson... Gracie shuddered at the memories of what her father would do whenever he had wanted to teach her a lesson.

Instead, what Hawthorne did was almost worse than giving her a beating. He opened the door and yelled.

"Oi, Rowan! Gracie has something to say to you!"

Moments later, Rowan's red head poked in through the bedroom door and Gracie felt a tidal wave of guilt when she saw the expression on his face. It was an expression of hurt and sadness, of bracing oneself for heartbreak, for you knew there was more pain to come.

"I'm so sorry, Rowan! It's all my fault!" She exclaimed, despite herself. All of her suppressed guilt about what she was doing to him emotionally rose to the surface.

Rowan looked appalled. "No, it's my fault for being such an idiot."

"NO! You're not an idiot Rowan, I shouldn't have ignored you!" Gracie practically wailed.

"I don't blame you for being upset, I shouldn't have gone charging in there."

"Charging in where? I was ignoring you because you might get hurt!" Gracie frowned.

"What are you talking about?" asked Rowan, confused.

"What are _you_ talking about?" Gracie demanded, hands on her hips.

Hawthorne smiled to himself, as the two friends began to talk to one another again. He closed the door softly behind him. It looked like his work here was done.

* * *

 **I had a bit of fun in this chapter. I like the fact that Gracie has to really focus to try and be mean and intimidating (channeling her inner Professor Snape) but still has to spend more time planning comebacks. Again, I emphasised that Hawthorne is the protective older brother, but in the coming chapters I'm going to introduce some insecurities of his own.**

 **The Princes (Gracie's pureblood grandparents) have entered a bid for Gracie's guardianship (any pointers on the legal stuff would be appreciated) and Rowan has to find the courage to tell his best friend. Now that they're talking again, it's going to be a whole lot harder to come up with excuses not to tell her...**


	10. Chapter 10 - Diagon Alley

**Hello readers, I'm introducing yet another character this chapter.**

 **Professor Daedalus McGonagall = Professor Minerva McGonagall**

 **Thank you to everyone who read, followed or favourited.**

* * *

When Hawthorne imagined a Hogwarts professor, he thought of posh accents and elbow patches. What he didn't expect was Professor McGonagall.

Rowan had been so excited by the concept of actually meeting one of his future teachers that he had dragged Hawthorne and Gracie into the front garden to keep watch for any arriving cars (no matter how often Gracie persisted they would most likely apparate - which Hawthorne found typical, Rowan would believe in magic, but still denied that teleportation was possible). After several hours of waiting, all three of them were bored out of their minds when a tabby cat emerged from the bushes.

Hawthorne couldn't believe his eyes when the small tabby suddenly elongated and grew, until it formed a man. Gracie and Rowan gasped, looking impressed at this display of magic, while Hawthorne stumbled back in shock. Hawthorne hated that he was the one who reacted the most strongly to the transformation - he knew that magic was possible - why _shouldn't_ Gracie and Rowan's teacher also be cat? The other two looked on in admiration still, accepting the impossible. Hawthorne wondered how they could do it.

"You have got to teach me how to do that!" Rowan exclaimed.

Gracie frowned. "Isn't that ability really rare or something? Animagus isn't it called?"

The man smiled in amusement. "Yes, my animagus form is a cat. Well done for recognising it Miss Prince!"

Professor McGonagall looked pleased that they knew this knowledge, but he did look rather strict. His black hair was cropped short and around his eyes were a pair of glasses that mirrored the markings around the tabby's eyes. Hawthorne had to hold back a snigger - the glasses were decidedly feminine and looked absurd on the serious man.

"Would you please inform your parents of my arrival?" The professor asked. "We have a lot to get."

Hawthorne went back inside to tell his parents, leaving Rowan and Gracie to quiz the professor on animagi and transfiguration and a buch of other words Hawthorne didn't understand.

* * *

Gracie giggled, as for the third time, Hawthorne tried to walk in the opposite direction to the door of the Leaky Cauldron. His parents were each holding onto one of Rowan's hands and were being led inside with expressions of confusion on their faces.

Skimming around the edges of the dingy pub, McGonagall led them into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a couple of dustbins and some weeds poking up from the ground. Rowan wrinkled his nose at the smell from the bins, it didn't smell like they had been emptied in a while. Mr and Mrs Evans glanced around at the walls, as if wondering why they were there.

"Now," Professor McGonagall turned to face Gracie and Rowan. "Remember that the entrance is three up and two across."

"Three up, two across" muttered Gracie, trying to embed it in her memory.

Professor McGonagall produced his wand and tapped the said brick three times. Soon the bricks were twisting and turning, revealing a hole. Hawthorne gasped, as the bricks continued to churn, until they formed an enormous archway, leading to a cobbled street.

"Welcome," announced McGonagall, "to Diagon Alley."

The entire party was amazed by this transformation and stood admiring the street.

"That was so cool!" Rowan exclaimed, grinning. His parents nodded in agreement.

Gracie gave a small smile. Her father had once taken her to Diagon, but they had floo-ed in, so she had never seen the archway. Still, Rowan seemed entranced by any display of magic and Gracie laughed as she saw his face become filled with wonder at the displays in the shopfronts.

McGonagall lead them past the shops showing owls, telescopes and broomsticks towards the white building at the end of the alley. Rowan's eyes widened as he read the warning on the silver doors and Gracie squeezed his hand reassuringly, as they headed inside the wizarding bank.

Hawthorne watched the goblins count gold, while his parents exchanged their coins into wizard currency. He raised an eyebrow as the goblin explained the exchange rates from pounds to sickles and pounds to galleons.

"Why are there three types of coin? Isn't that needlessly complicated?" He asked Gracie.

Gracie shrugged. "Don't ask me, wizards just like to be different from muggles, I suppose."

"It's still needlessly complicated."

Rowan, Gracie and Hawthorne continued to bounce theories about why the wizarding currency was so backwards, when exiting the bank. Rowan was just claiming it was so only the goblins could understand it (a cunning plan so they could cheat the leprechauns out of their gold), when McGonagall lead them to the bookshop. Inside, there were thousands of books, of all sizes and ages. There were books that could talk, dusty tomes that would occasionally sneeze and a flock of books that one of the employees was trying to shoo into a cage.

Gracie winced, as a particularly vicious book snapped shut on the young employee's arm, tearing several of its pages. She wondered if the books she needed would be quite as violent. Peering into the cage, Gracie caught the name of the volume - _The Monster Book of Monsters: First Edition_. Gracie gave a sigh of relief that she didn't recognise it from her booklist.

Glancing around for her friends, Gracie spotted Rowan browsing the fiction section, while Hawthorne dragged his fingers across the spines of the books, looking in awe to be in a place full of so much knowledge. Mr and Mrs Evans were talking with a shop assistant about their books, while McGonagall helped a now disheveled looking employee round up the remaining monster books that kept getting out of their cage.

After collecting their books, they roamed the shops collecting school supplies. The initial euphoria of being in a magical environment had now worn off somewhat and Rowan no longer exclaimed with joy every time someone pulled out their wand to perform a mundane task, making the outing seem much more like a regular shopping trip. However, Gracie noticed that ever since the bookshop, Hawthorne had been looking down. He no longer appeared to have any energy left, his feet were dragging along the cobbled road and he showed no more astonishment to his surroundings.

She was about to go and ask him what was wrong, when Rowan seized her hand. "Come on, Gracie!" He pulled her along towards a shop called Ollivanders. "McGonagall says we can get our wands now!"

Rowan was almost bursting with excitement and Gracie couldn't help getting swept up in it, so she let him lead her away. Behind, Hawthorne watched with an unreadable expression, as laughing, they entered _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_. He felt an unfamiliar tug inside his gut. He didn't belong here.

* * *

 **So, Hawthorne's getting jealous! I couldn't resist adding in some ideas which popped into my head when I started writing this chapter - let me know what you think!**

 **Next chapter, Gracie and Rowan get their wands, while Hawthorne gets a minor adventure of his own.**


	11. Chapter 11 - Wand of Willow

**Hello again! After updating the last chapter, my muse decided to talk to me again (does a happy dance).**

 **This chapter, I add a character who doesn't have a canon counterpart. Let me know what you think, I decided to add her into the story earlier than I had planned, because it might be a while until we see her again...**

 **Thank you everyone who read, favourited and followed this story.**

* * *

A bell chimed somewhere inside, as Gracie and Rowan stepped inside the shop. Professor McGonagall and Mrs Evans had opted to wait outside, because with everyone in the tiny shop it was rather crowded. Mr Evans sat down on a decrepit chair to wait, while Hawthorne stood in the corner, watching.

Rowan's skin tingled with magic, the air inside the shop seemed to be full of it. He sneezed, as the dust tickled his nose. Magic wasn't the only thing filling the air. Precarious piles of narrow boxes were stacked against the walls, as if they hadn't had the chance to be tidied away yet.

"Good afternoon," said an old woman softly. She had wide, pale eyes which refused to blink. Rowan found her more than a little creepy.

"Er, hello" Gracie replied awkwardly. "You're Ollivander, right?"

The woman fixed her silvery eyes on Gracie and nodded in confirmation. Rowan decided that she was definitely creepy.

"Let's get your wands sorted. The wand choses the wizard after all! Although, I seem to remember that your father, Miss Prince, used an inherited wand instead of one of his own, meaning it never quite worked for him." The old lady stared at Gracie accusatory, as if Adrian using one of his ancestor's wand was entirely her fault. Hawthorne rolled his eyes.

"Now, why don't we try this?" Ollivander plucked a box from the top of the pile, handing it to Gracie. "Sycamore, unicorn hair thirteen inches."

Glancing at Rowan nervously, Gracie waved the twig, before Ollivander ripped it from her hand. "Nope!"

"Elm, phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches." This one was also taken away from her. Rowan stood back and waited - he had the feeling this was going to take a while.

Finally, Ollivander handed Gracie a wand which she didn't snatch back immediately. "Walnut and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches and rather bendy."

Gracie waved it around and a breeze blew through the room, causing half of the pile of used wands to topple over. Rowan and his father clapped and Gracie grinned that she finally had her wand. Hawthorne did nothing, his expression uncharacteristically blank.

Rowan sighed and moved forwards to find the correct wand for him.

* * *

Hawthorne scowled as they exited the shop selling magic wands, Gracie tucking her walnut wand into the pocket of her sundress and Rowan clutching his wand of willow in his hand. To be honest, Hawthorne had been surprised that the rowan wand he had tried hadn't worked, but wand lore seemed too contradictory to be precise. Idly, Hawthorne wondered that if some wands didn't work for wizards and they had to spend ages finding the right wand, how could you tell if you were magic at all? If you tried all the wands in the shop, were you deemed unmagical, even if there was the perfect wand out there for you somewhere?

Moodily, Hawthorne started to follow the others back to the Leaky Cauldron. Although he didn't want to admit it, part of Hawthorne had enjoyed his time at Diagon. However, that feeling was soured by the fact that he wouldn't be joining Gracie and Rowan. For the first time, Hawthorne had to face the fact that he was going to be left alone in Cokeworth without either of them, while they would be learning to ride broomsticks and how to turn into cats like McGonagall. Not for the last time, Hawthorne cursed the fact that he didn't have magic as well. Why did life have to be so unfair?

Lagging behind, Hawthorne was drowning in bitter thoughts; the sort of thing he would never say aloud and never even tell Rowan about. He was so lost in thought, that he tripped on the cobbled road, sending him stumbling down a side street. Brushing the dirt from his scratched knees, Hawthorne took in the filthy alleyway.

It was dark inside the alley, despite the summer sun that had been shining in Diagon Alley. The shop displays were less colourful and showed a variety of oddities that had a malevolent gleam about them. Cloaked figures lurked in the shadows and Hawthorne began to feel horribly exposed in his muggle attire. He was beginning to gain unwanted attention and several heads turned his way, as Hawthorne tried to regain his bearings. One of the figures started to walk in his direction and Hawthorne felt his stomach freeze over with dread.

Suddenly, someone grabbed onto Hawthorne's arm and pulled him into a shadowed doorway. He tensed as he felt a cold, metal blade against his throat and the firm grip his attacker had on his arm tightened as they pulled him closer. The cloaked figure paused, but continued to walk in their direction.

"For goodness sake! Don't yell or we're both dead!" Hawthorne's attacker hissed angrily into his ear.

Hawthorne stayed still, his muscles frozen in place and his heart in his mouth, as the person in the cloak drew nearer. The hand on his arm clung on tighter, cutting off his blood supply, but neither of them made a sound. All three stood silently, daring the others to make a move.

Eventually, the person in the cloak retreated, disappearing into the darkened alley. Both Hawthorne and the person holding a knife to his throat waited several minutes before reacting. The knife was removed as was the hand on his arm and Hawthorne allowed himself a sigh of relief, before turning to face the person who had saved him.

The girl clutching the silver knife in front of her was about the same age as Hawthorne. She had blonde hair so pale it was almost white and she was adorned in expensive emerald robes. To be honest, she looked as scared of Hawthorne as he was of her. The dagger was made of polished silver metal and Hawthorne recognised it as one of the blades that was required for potions.

Trying to look as unthreatening as possible, Hawthorne gave a small smile at the girl. He wasn't sure what to say to girls at the best of times, let alone witches wielding knives. "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome." She continued to point the blade in Hawthorne's direction, yet no longer held the handle as tightly.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"So, er, do you know the way back to the Leaky Cauldron?" Hawthorne asked tentatively.

The blonde stared at him for a moment, as if trying to assess whether he would kill her the second she turned her back. Apparently satisfied, she nodded. "Keep to the shadows," she instructed. "The less people that see us in Knockturn Alley, the better."

They scurried from shadowed doorway to shadowed doorway, Hawthorne following his guide. Eventually, they reached sunlight and blinking rapidly, Hawthorne realised they had emerged into Diagon Alley. In daylight, his companion looked even more regal, with her blonde hair gleaming and her emerald robes spotless, despite their misadventure in the filthy alley. The girl pocketed her knife, but still eyed him warily, even though he would be stupid to try something in broad daylight on a busy street.

"The Leaky Cauldron is this way." She lead the way, marching ahead with her nose in the air, emanating wealth that she had suppressed in the darkness.

Approaching the brick wall which covered the archway leading to the Leaky Cauldron, the two of them stood facing it, each waiting for the other to pull out their wand to let them through. They glanced at each other in confusion, as if wondering what the other was doing.

"Melanie!"

Both turned, the blonde girl with a look of horror across her face.

* * *

 **I wasn't sure what wand Severus Snape wielded, so I invented one for Gracie's use. Rowan gets the same wand as Lily.**

 **Also, I wanted to give Hawthorne the limelight, as we won't hear much from him during term-time at Hogwarts. I would love to hear what you think of Melanie, so I would thoroughly enjoy it if you reviewed (thank you!).**


	12. Chapter 12 - Mudbloods and Squibs

**Hello again.**

 **I'm starting this chapter from Melanie's perspective, because now we are going to meet her family. I always knew they would be pureblood** **supremacists, but it wasn't until I started writing that I realised who they were going to be.**

 **Alexandra Malfoy = Abraxas Malfoy**

 **Lucia Malfoy = Lucius Malfoy**

 **No one reviewed last chapter (tell me what I'm doing right/wrong!) but thank you to everyone who read, followed or favourited this story!**

 **For now, enjoy reading!**

* * *

To be fair, Melanie was not having a good day. After getting separated from her family in Knockturn Alley, she had been forced to hide in order to save her own skin. To add to the insult, she also had to save the life of a filthy mudblood who was stupid enough to enter the alley dressed in muggle clothing. She sighed mentally. Some people were just idiots.

Just as she had been about to wash her hands of the mudblood she had saved (who refused to open the archway to the Leaky Cauldron for some reason), Melanie had been discovered by her family.

You would know they were family from a cursory glance. With the same blonde hair and elegant posture, there was no doubt that they were a highly respectable pureblood family. Her mother wore a calculating expression, which made Melanie shudder at the thought of what punishment she would think up to punish Melanie for being found in this situation. Her older sister, Lucia, smirked.

Melanie glared in her direction. Lucia always thought that she was above everyone else, especially her little squib sister. Her silver prefect badge gleamed on her chest, despite it being the summer holidays. The sisters shared a mutual hate for each other and Melanie could tell that she delighted in the chance to get her in trouble.

As casually as she could, Melanie took a step away from the mudblood boy, trying to disassociate herself from him. The boy, moron that he was, took a step closer to her, as if seeking protection from the intimidating women in front of him.

"Explain." The demand was ominous, one Melanie didn't want to oblige to. In the background, Lucia took in their mother's tone and body language eagerly. She straightened her back, trying to look more like her mother. Melanie would have rolled her eyes if she wasn't in so much trouble.

Unfortunately for Melanie, it looked like she was going to be in even more trouble, as soon as the mud blood opened his mouth. "Sorry, I was just trying to get back into the Leaky Cauldron. I think the rest of my family is waiting for me."

"Forgot how to activate the archway did you?" Lucia sneered. "Always knew it was a mistake for Hogwarts to accept those not worthy of attending and here's the proof! She can't even remember the correct brick to tap!"

"Enough Lucia." Melanie's sister, looked down, subdued for talking out of turn, but Melanie knew she wouldn't be punished. Lucia was mother's favourite after all. "You tap that brick there." She pointed with her wand.

Melanie wondered what her mother was playing at; Alexandra Malfoy never gave advice without some ulterior motive in play. The mudblood just stared helplessly at the brick, just when Melanie thought the boy was too thick to understand, her sister gave a bark of laughter.

"What do you recon, mother? Should we just leave the muggle until someone lets it back in?" Lucia gave another snort.

Staring at the boy standing next to her, Melanie felt a chill go up her spine. _A muggle_. Oh, that was so much worse than helping a stray mudblood in Knockturn Alley. She was never going to here the end of this!

"No, Lucia," her mother now sported an evil grin. "We'll take pity on the poor boy." She tapped the wall three times in the correct spot and the grand archway appeared. "You owe me for that, filth."

As her family swept past, Melanie had no choice but to follow, leaving the mysterious muggle boy behind, staring through the archway.

* * *

"Thorne! Where were you?" Rowan wrapped his arms around his older brother. "You've been gone for ages!"

Hawthorne shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, I got lost."

Gracie frowned, her face thoughtful. "Then who let you back into the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Passing family." Hawthorne refused to look anyone in the eye, but Rowan was so glad to see him, that Gracie decided not to push the subject further. Despite his moodiness from earlier, Hawthorne now looked pleased to be with his family. He didn't seem to be hurt, so nothing bad could have happened, could it?

* * *

Rowan sat on the end of Gracie's bed and took a deep breath. Her room now showed signs of life, with sketches lining the walls and schoolbooks stacked haphazardly on the desk. Gracie herself had her black hair tied in her trademark plaits and her hair had a slightly less greasy texture than usual. She was dressed in a bubblegum pink sundress which Rowan's mother had picked out (which she looked distinctly unhappy about) and the bruises on her arms had faded.

Gracie looked nothing like the girl he had seen inside Spinner's End, she appeared to have made a full recovery, at least on the surface. Rowan wasn't sure if he would be hurting her again by telling her this, but he knew that the time had come to tell her anyway.

"Gracie, have you ever met your father's parents?"

She looked at him in surprise, wondering why he would ask such a question. "No, they disowned my father as soon as he married my mother. Why?"

"Well, since your father's in Azkaban..." Rowan felt his voice trail off, this seemed like too big a task. He didn't want his best friend to get hurt.

The black eyes narrowed, she replied in a cold, clipped voice. "If you're suggesting we have a reunion to bond over how awful a person my father was, you are greatly mistaken. My paternal grandparents were the source of much of my father's sense of pureblood superiority."

"But they've decided to make a bid for your guardianship!" Rowan exclaimed in horror, unable to help himself. "They want to take you away!"

Gracie's dark eyes widened, as the knowledge sunk in. "They want to do WHAT!?"

Rowan shrunk back slightly, almost unnoticeably. Gracie was scary when she was angry, but he refused to be intimidated. "Don't freak out."

His friend gave an almost-shriek.

"Okay, freak out." Rowan told her, putting his hands up in surrender, "but keep it short, we need to come up with a plan..."

* * *

 **Rowan and Gracie need to come up with a plan to stop the Princes gaining Gracie's guardianship, meaning they have got to put to use their last weeks before Hogwarts. Gracie's worried about what happened to Hawthorne, but has decided not to question it for now.**

 **Well, I know that isn't the last Hawthorne has seen of the Malfoy family...**


	13. Chapter 13 - Nine and Three Quarters

**Hello (yay new chapter!).**

 **Rowan and Gracie are now going to Hogwarts (finally), meaning I'm going to have to start introducing the Marauders.**

 **Jane Potter = James Potter**

 **Spica Black = Sirius Black**

 **Thank you for the wonderful reviews and also to everyone who read, followed and favourited this story.**

 **But for now, enjoy!**

* * *

Gracie sat in the car impatiently, practically bouncing with excitement. She watched out the window, as London sped past, a blur of buildings, people and buses and other extremely normal things. They pulled into Kings Cross Station and Gracie leapt out the car, the first one to heave her trunk out of the boot. Rowan followed closely behind, chattering in his nervousness.

She weaved her way through the crowd towards the barrier, leaving Hawthorne and his parents far behind.

"So we just walk through it?" Rowan asked anxiously, for the seventeenth time.

"Sure," Gracie grinned. "Just follow me." She charged towards the ticket barrier, dividing platforms nine and ten, the red bricks coming closer, closer... and then she was through. Gracie stood smiling smugly to herself when Rowan came through with Hawthorne and their parents.

Mr and Mrs Evans gave astonished looks, as they took in the robed families, with a variety of odd pets and the scarlet steam train. Hawthorne didn't look too impressed, he was staring at his trainers and it didn't look like he had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Gracie rushed aboard the train with their trunks, trying to save them a compartment. Rowan hung back to say goodbye to his family. Quickly stashing their trunk in the overhead luggage department, Gracie glanced out the window to see that Hawthorne and Rowan were stood a little apart from their parents. To her surprise, it looked like the two brothers were arguing.

Rowan had his back to the train, but appeared to be trying to persuade Hawthorne of something, while Hawthorne shook his head in return, his face pink. Hawthorne said something to Rowan, then flounced off to where his parents stood...

Frowning slightly, Gracie sat down in the compartment to wait for Rowan. She couldn't imagine what the two had been talking about, although Hawthorne had been acting strangely ever since he disappeared in Diagon Alley. Gracie silently cursed the fact that she hadn't quizzed him on what happened, who knew what sort of mess he could have got himself into? She just hoped the argument wasn't serious, the brothers bickered all the time, yet she had never seen Hawthorne's face turn that colour before.

When Rowan finally appeared, the train was almost ready to leave, although that wasn't what troubled Gracie. Rowan's face was stained with tears.

"Rowan! What happened?" Gracie pulled her friend into the seat opposite, shutting the compartment door behind them.

"It's nothing, Gracie." Rowan turned to look out of the window, as the train pulled out of the station. "Hawthorne's just being an idiot."

Gracie wasn't sure what to say to that so she kept quiet.

The silence was broken a couple minutes later, as a group of girls walked into the compartment.

"Hi," said the leader, a girl with messy black hair and glasses. "Do you mind if we join you? Pretty much everywhere else is full."

Gracie, opened her mouth to answer, but the girls had already barged in.

The messy haired girl collapsed onto the seats, along with another girl who immediately started acting as if she owned the place. They stored their trunks with Gracie and Rowan's and the girl gave her a cocky grin.

"Jane Potter." She made those two words sound like God's gift to humanity and Gracie took an instant dislike to the girl. "What's up with him?" She nodded towards where Rowan had his face pressed against the window pain.

"He had an argument with his brother."

Jane shrugged, but continued to give Rowan a curious look and Gracie wasn't sure she liked that either. Thinking quickly, Gracie decided to change the subject. "So what House do you think you will be in?"

Jane lifted an imaginary sword. " _'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!'_ like my mum."

The girl sitting beside Jane gave a small sigh.

"What about you?" Gracie asked, trying to pull the attention away from Jane who was trying to explain why Gryffindor was better than all the other Houses combined.

"Well, I was hoping for Gryffindor," the girl began, Jane giving an enormous grin. "But my entire family has been in Slytherin." She gave a shrug of despair.

"Blimey," said Jane, " I thought you seemed alright!"

The girl shrugged again. "Maybe I'll break the tradition." She turned to Gracie. "I'm Spica Black, by the way."

"Gracie Prince and this is Rowan Evans." Gracie indicated where Rowan was still staring out of the window.

"Is his wand made of rowan?" Jane asked eagerly. "That would be really cool!"

Rowan sat up grouchily. "For your information, it's willow."

"Your name or your wand?" Spica quipped.

"Probably both, he's just making it up, Spica. What kind of idiot names their child after a tree?" Jane asked.

"Shut up!" Gracie told them, couldn't they see that they were upsetting Rowan?

Spica snorted. "Did she just tell us to shut up for making a joke?"

"Get out!" Rowan yelled, his temper finally breaking. "You're rude and we were here first, so get out!"

"Can't take a joke can you?" Jane muttered, as she and Spica gathered their trunks and exited the compartment.

Spica was less subtle. "See ya, Greasy!" She called as they exited the compartment.

Gracie shut the compartment door after them. The rest of the journey was spent in tense silence.

* * *

Rowan wiped his eyes for the last time, knowing they were dry, but wanting to make sure no one noticed that they were slightly puffy. He was amazed at the size of the Great Hall and the ceiling it held, but right now he was concentrating on not looking like a wimp when he was about to stand in front of the entire school.

Hawthorne hadn't been his usual self, so Rowan had called him out on his obvious jealousy about not being able to attend Hogwarts. Rowan scrubbed his eyes again, feeling guilty. Hawthorne absolutely denied his envy and covered it up by calling them freaks.

 _He's just jealous_ Rowan reminded himself _he didn't mean it_.

"Evans, Rowan!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang out through the hall.

He walked forwards, legs trembling as he sat down on the rickety stool. Rowan flinched as Professor McGonagall dropped the sorting hat on his head, waiting for judgement.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Surprised that he was sorted so quickly, (it had barely taken a second) Rowan handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall. Rowan glanced back at Gracie, a small smile upon her face, as she joined the cheering Gryffindors. Spica moved up to make room for him, but Rowan recognised her from the train and firmly turned his back on him, trying to ignore her commentary on the sorting.

Rowan waited as several others were sorted into Gryffindor, hoping that they would be together. Gracie had told him that her entire family had been in Slytherin (according to her father at least). Crossing his fingers under the table, Rowan hoped that Gracie would join him at the table - if Spica Black could become Gryffindor, then surely Gracie could as well?

"Prince, Gracelyn!"

Rowan held his breath, surely Gracie was brave enough to be Gryffindor? She'd had to live with her father, after all, you had to be brave to live through that!

"SLYTHERIN!" Cried the Sorting Hat.

He was left to watch helplessly, as Rowan moved off to the other side of the Hall, to where the Slytherins were cheering for her. Gracie sat down next to a blonde haired prefect with expensive robes, who patted her on the back in congratulations.

Leaving Rowan alone, with only the idiots from the train for company...

* * *

 **The rest of the Marauders will be introduced soon. Gracie and Rowan now have to deal with being sorted into rival Houses, Gracie and Jane find hate at first sight, while there is more going on with Rowan's brother than he realises... (insert evil laugh here)**


	14. Chapter 14 - Moonlit Midnight

**Hello readers!**

 **This is hardly my favourite chapter, but I'm planning long-term at the moment. Next chapter will be full of confrontations and near-confrontations. I will then introduce the last of the Marauders.**

 **Roma Lupin = Remus Lupin**

 **Alex Fawley = Alice Fawley (I'm not sure what Neville Longbottom's mother's maiden name was)**

 **Juno Filch = Argus Filch**

 **Thank you everyone who spent the time and reviewed, read, followed or** **favourited this story!**

* * *

Hogwarts was a truly magical place - in every sense of the word.

Gracie was amazed by the amount of stairs, doors and passageways which would either move, become invisible or actually be a solid wall in disguise. The castle was a labyrinth which she constantly found herself lost in. This was most definitely a good thing, as a gave her places to hide.

Life had been difficult for Gracie, ever since she was sorted into Slytherin. Word had spread about her father's deeds and Gracie was horrified that most of the students in her year actually approved of his actions. They all expected her to start spewing the same pureblood nonsense as the rest of them and when she didn't, they simply put it down to her being a "filthy halfblood". Gracie avoided the dungeons whenever she could.

Unfortunately, Slytherins weren't very welcome outside of the dungeons. With the rumours of the so-called "Death Eaters" and the obvious support they were getting from Slytherin House, the other Houses were even less welcoming than usual. Most snakes only left the dungeons in groups, for protection, while Gracie resorted to finding new places to hide.

However, the worst thing about going to Hogwarts was that she didn't get to hang out with Rowan. Whenever a Gryffindor and Slytherin wanted to talk by themselves, their housemates would often interrupt, as if thinking they would rip each other's heads off if they spent more than two minutes in private. Trying to talk to Rowan had made Gracie even more unpopular in Slytherin House and it made her ache inside whenever she saw Rowan with his new Gryffindor friends.

Gracie hid in a corner and pulled out her potions textbook. If she was going to hide, then she should at least do something useful with her time.

* * *

Rowan sat between the golden hangings of the boys dormitory, wand in hand. Books and laundry were scattered across the floor, overflowing from the boys' trunks. It was dark outside the tower, but Rowan found that he couldn't sleep.

He hadn't heard a single word from Hawthorne since he had arrived at Hogwarts. _Fine_ , Rowan thought. _I wouldn't read anything he sent me anyway, unless it was an apology for being so jealous..._

Hating to admit that his brother's silence was getting to him, Rowan concentrated at the task at hand. Glancing down at the book in his lap, Rowan practised the wand movement yet again. He thought he had it now, maybe he could practise the incantation? Rowan shook his head, it would be stupid to practise magic unsupervised. But he was fairly sure he knew what he was doing now...

Rowan sighed as he gave into temptation. Maybe it was time to give into his Gryffindor recklessness.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " Rowan's voice echoed around the silent room.

The dirty sock Rowan had pointed his wand at did nothing. He wrinkled his nose in disgust - trust Alex's socks to be so smelly they were magic-resistant. Taking a deep breath, (those socks really did smell) Rowan tried again.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

This time the offending item rose a couple of inches, before sinking back down to the floor. Rowan felt a smile play across his lips, knowing he was going to outperform everyone else in Charms tomorrow morning.

Alex grunted and rolled over in his sleep.

* * *

While Rowan was practising levitating his dorm-mate's smelly laundry, Jane had much bigger fish to fry. Scurrying down the moving staircases, Jane and Spica ran from Filch. If they were caught, it would mean detention for sure. Dashing through another corridor, Jane wheezed trying to find her way back to the Fat Lady's portrait. Filch had spotted them when they were on their way back from the Owlry.

Pushing open yet another door, Jane wondered if she would have to do much more running if she was to fulfil her ambition of becoming the finest prankster Hogwarts had ever seen. Judging by the distance she and Spica had travelled just to get away from Filch, the answer was a lot more. She had only attempted a few pranks so far and this was her biggest yet, so she was determined not to get caught.

Finally reaching the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, the two first years skidded to a stop, grasping for breath and relieved to have reached safety. Only, the Fat Lady had gone on a midnight stroll, leaving the two girls stranded with Filch on the warpath.

"We're doomed aren't we?" Spica said.

Jane shook her head. "There has to be somewhere we could go... Come on, let's keep moving, we can't let Filch find us!"

* * *

Rowan grinned, eyes drooping as he now attempted sleep. He had finally mastered the levitation charm, so after a silent celebration, he had crept back into bed. In his tired state, Alex's snoring started to sound rhythmic and soothing and less like a mini-earthquake.

Dazed, Rowan was about to close the hangings around his bed, when he caught sight of a light outside his window. Appreciating the view, Rowan decided to leave the hangings open and he fell asleep under the light of a full moon, oblivious to what was going on outside...

* * *

The pair of pranksters took off again. Through cobwebbed corridors, down the moving staircases and past the rude portraits. Yet still, they could hear Filch in the distance.

"Any ideas?" Jane asked.

Spica shook her head. "Although... wait a minute!"

Jane looked at Spica like she was crazy. "I'm not going to wait a minute - Filch will be here any second!"

Spica grabbed her hand and pulled her down another corridor. "I think it's this way."

If Jane had thought all was lost before, she well and truly thought so now. They had barely been in the castle a week and would get lost at every turn. Spica, however, was worse than most and had an awful sense of direction. Jane swore she had to draw her a map just to get to breakfast on time.

Just as Jane reckoned they were going to get caught, Spica opened a door to reveal a row of beds. They could hear the meowing of Filch's cat, but otherwise the hospital wing was silent.

Spica leapt onto one of the beds. "Quick, draw the curtains around you!" She hissed.

Promptly, Jane did as she was told and no sooner had she pulled the curtains to, Filch's voice could be heard throughout the ward.

"Where'd they go, my precious?"

Her only reply was a small meow.

"Alright, then." They heard Filch's shuffling footsteps move away from the door to the Hospital Wing.

Jane pulled the curtain away from the bed. "That was a brilliant idea, Spica! I thought we were going to be serving detention when Filch discovered those streamers!"

"I remembered that one of the girls in our dorm was feeling ill, so I thought that even if Filch _did_ catch us we could just claim to be visiting her." Spica held a smug smile, no doubt because she had actually remembered where something was inside the school.

"Bloody brilliant, Spica." Jane glanced around at the surrounding beds, seeing them all unoccupied. The full moon provided enough light to see by and it flooded through the windows. "But where is she?"

"Who?" Spica asked, who was already trying to decide whether they should try again to get up to the Fat Lady's portrait or if they should just spend the night on one of the beds here.

"Roma, the girl who was feeling really ill today." Jane checked the moonlit beds again. "She isn't here."

Spica shrugged. "Maybe she felt well enough to go back to the dormitories. We'll ask her in the morning."

Before Jane could answer her, she heard Spica's snores from the bed next to her. A distant howl could be heard, most likely from the forbidden forest. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 **Sorry this chapter wasn't the most exciting, but it is kind of necessary for the following chapters.**

 **Jane has caught the first clue to Roma's secret, while also gaining confidence with her pranking. Rowan is completely unaware of what is** **going on elsewhere in the castle, while Gracie is struggling to make new friends. Meanwhile, Hawthorne has been conspicuously quiet...**


	15. Chapter 15 - Charming Encounters

**Hello and sorry for missing the update!**

 **This chapter took forever to write and by the time I was meant to post this, I was too sleep-deprived to do anything about it (apologies).** **I also add a couple more characters.**

 **Marley McKinnon = Marlene McKinnon**

 **Martin Macdonald = Mary Macdonald**

 **Penny Pettigrew = Peter Pettigrew**

 **Enjoy reading!**

* * *

At the Gryffindor table the next morning, there wasn't a single first year who wasn't brain-numbingly tired. Rowan stared into his pumpkin juice unseeingly, as Alex told Marley McKinnon and Martin Macdonald about how he had had a really vivid nightmare about badly-smelling monsters, only to wake up and find himself covered in socks! Marley snorted with laughter, while Martin spluttered pumpkin juice.

"Roma!" A girl with a slightly squeaky voice and watery eyes exclaimed. "You're back!"

The girl looked like she had a rough night as well and had deep circles under her eyes. "Yeah, just got back from the Hospital Wing." She told her friend tiredly. "It's good to see you, Penny."

Rowan caught Jane and Spica giving each other confused glances. Rowan made a mental note to keep an eye on those two, there was obviously something else going on behind the scenes.

"So," Rowan stifled a yawn. "Who's ready for Charms? I heard we were going to be doing levitation today."

Marley indicated the rest of the table's tired faces. "Who in their right mind would think any of us were ready for lessons? And with the Halloween feast last week, I doubt anyone is going to be able to sleep for a while after that massive sugar rush."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"You can never have too much sugar, Marley." Spica told him seriously.

"Hey, did any of you hear about last night?" Alex said suddenly.

"What?" Rowan, Jane, Spica and Roma all cried in unison. _How did he find out?_

"Apparently someone covered the Owlry in streamers last night and Filch is on the warpath for whoever is responsible." Alex continued, Rowan and Roma breathing identical sighs of relief.

Jane grinned. "I expect it was a pretty awesome prank."

"Streamers?" Marley asked. "That is so lame."

Spica's eyes bulged. "No it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"No it isn't"

Their arguing was so loud as they exited the hall, that Rowan almost didn't notice Jane pulling Roma to one side for a word. Intrigued, Rowan hung about just within earshot, wondering what the obnoxious Jane would want with rule-abiding Roma. Penny also stayed behind - she wasn't about to abandon her friend to Jane Potter.

"Where were you last night?" Jane questioned.

Roma glanced around, as if looking for an escape. "Er, in the Hospital Wing."

"No you weren't, not when I arrived." Insisted Jane. Rowan rolled his eyes, trust Jane to barge into someone else's business. Jane wasn't supposed to be out of bed either and Roma wasn't interrogating her!

Spica arrived, having finally freed herself from Marley. "Leave it Jane, she probably felt better and went back to the dormitory."

"Yeah," Roma's shoulders sagged with relief. "That was probably it." It was obviously a lie, but it seemed that Jane and Spica would let it go.

"No," Penny said, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "I waited all night for you to come back, Roma. The dormitory just didn't feel the same with you and the others gone." With Roma, Spica and Jane all out of bed, Penny would have been the only one left in the girls' dormitory.

Jane crossed her arms. "So where were you?"

Feeling sorry for the poor girl being interrogated, Rowan decided it was time for a distraction. "Hurry up, Charms is going to start in a minute!"

The first year Gryffindors ran out the door, trying not to be late, their confrontation forgotten. As they raced up the changing staircases, Rowan thought he saw Roma send him a grateful smile.

* * *

Gracie had missed breakfast; the others had gotten to her trunk again. She was sure the older students were helping them, as the harder she tried to hide her stuff (she hadn't learnt how to spell her trunk locked yet) the more elaborate the spells were.

Desperately trying to find a set of clothes that hadn't been charmed two sizes too small, Gracie searched the floor of the dormitory, where her scattered belongings now lay. Finally locating some long enough to hide her now-violet socks, Gracie ran to lessons, knowing that she was too late to eat breakfast in the Great Hall. Her black plaits flowed behind her, as she sprinted up _yet another_ flight of steps.

Taking a deep breath, Gracie realised that she wasn't the only one who was late. The Gryffindors also looked like they had been running to class, all of them in various states of disarray. Gracie noted that Rowan was panting slightly, while Jane's ever-messy hair was even more tussled than usual.

Sitting down at her desk, Gracie was partnered with Rowan, as the class attempted the levitation charm. Rowan smiled smugly, as if he knew something she didn't. Gracie narrowed her eyes, but nonetheless went first.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " The feather remained still. However, Gracie thought that was better than what the rest of the class. Penny was staring helplessly at her feather as it turned black and curled up around the edges, despite Roma's encouragement. Jane and Spica had not attempted the charm yet and were engaged in a tickle-fight.

Rowan gave her another smile. "Watch me, I'll show you how it's done." Gracie fought the urge to roll her eyes, as Rowan made a great show of "how it was meant to be done".

He cleared his throat. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The feather rose into the air, did a small pirouette and a lazy loop, before returning to the desk. Gracie's mouth fell open in shock - Rowan shouldn't be able to do that first try!

"Well done, Mr Evans!" cried Professor Flitwick, giving a round of applause. "That was a perfect demonstration of the levitation charm, twenty points to Gryffindor!"

Gracie narrowed her eyes at her friend, the black orbs giving off a strange light. It was obvious Rowan had cheated and performed the charm before. "Okay, Rowan." She hissed, like the Slytherin she was. "Now you teach me how to do that."

* * *

 **So... Jane is set on trying to uncover Roma's secret, while Rowan thinks it is none of her business. Gracie is getting pranked by her fellow Slytherins, but otherwise Hogwarts life is pretty simple and easy-going at the moment, as the characters have all settled into their new school now.**


	16. Chapter 16 - Potions Class

**Hello everyone, sorry for the late update (yet again).**

 **Thank you again to everyone who followed and favourited this story.**

* * *

Since their Charms lesson at the beginning of November, Rowan and Gracie had spent more time together out of class. It wasn't the same as at home, when they spent every waking moment with each other and Rowan still hung out with his Gryffindor friends, but it was far more than their first two months at Hogwarts.

Gracie had insisted that Rowan teach her how to do the more advanced charm work that they would cover later in the year, while Rowan had discovered Gracie had a talent for Defence Against the Dark Arts and asked her to tutor him. However, they had discovered that they were equally matched in Potions and would often challenge each other to see who could create the potion the best, much to Professor Slughorn's delight and amusement.

Pushing a dark plait behind her ear, Gracie added the horned slugs to the potion, stirring constantly anticlockwise. She hadn't left the dungeons all day, as she had skipped breakfast again and her stomach growled in hunger. Behind her, the other Slytherins snickered at some private joke. Gracie supposed that not all of her housemates were evil - just some of them, like Avery and Mulciber. Mildred Bulstrode was alright, but she never did anything which might prove disadvantageous at a later date and being seen with Gracie was not going to win her popularity points any time soon.

Taking her cauldron off the heat, Gracie filled her vial with her potion and placed it on Slughorn's desk alongside Rowan's. The rest of the class were still brewing and Gracie doodled idly on some parchment as she waited for the rest of the class to finish. To her left, she could hear Potter and Black whispering and snickering among themselves. Rowan had told her that they suspected Roma Lupin of something and Gracie noticed that Potter had been spending more time around Roma. Gracie rolled her dark eyes, it was obvious Jane only wanted to befriend Roma in order to find out her secret and Roma was being rightfully cautious, sticking close to her friend Penny whenever possible.

Packing her belongings away as the rest of the class emptied the dungeons, Gracie and Rowan were told to stay behind by Professor Slughorn. Jane muttered something about them "obviously cheating" as she exited with her peers. Gracie sneered in return, Jane needed to face the fact that she wasn't the best at everything.

Slughorn was his usual jolly self and Gracie found hid optimism could be a little overwhelming. "Well, it is great to mark your potions you two, I must say. Although, natural talent can usually only take you so far, so I'd like to invite you to a little gathering tomorrow night - not that I often invite first years mind you - but witnessing your talents makes me feel better about bending the rules..."

He continued on like this for a while and Gracie tuned him out as he continued to reminisce about past "Slug Club" Meetings. It was only after her stomach's growling reached a new volume that Professor Slughorn allowed them to be excused for lunch. Gracie scowled, right now she wanted nothing more than to tuck in and make up for her missing breakfast.

However, as soon as she reached the Slytherin table, an owl flew down to her, holding an official-looking letter. Mildred informed her that it had been waiting for her at breakfast as well. Frowning, Gracie opened the letter, revealing the formal script inside.

Gracie gasped, dropping the letter as if she had been burned. Picking up the letter again, Gracie clutched it to her chest and ran from the Great Hall, her food untouched.

* * *

Rowan glanced up from his lunch, as he watched his friend flee the hall. He was shocked to see her face in tears and her food abandoned on her plate, despite her complaints about her hunger. Frowning, Rowan wondered what the letter could have said that made Gracie so upset. Maybe... _had Hawthorne written to her?_ Rowan hadn't heard a word from his brother since he had arrived at Hogwarts, but he knew that very few things could have made Gracie cry in front of the entire school.

Gathering several sandwiches, Rowan stuffed them into his pockets and followed Gracie from the Great Hall. He found her in one of her favourite hiding places: a small cupboard in an abandoned area of the castle (an area often referred to as the "Lost Tower"). A small pile of textbooks were stacked beside it, from the time Gracie had emptied the cupboard to form her hiding space. Rowan pushed open the door to the cupboard and climbed inside with her.

"Fancy seeing you here." Rowan sat down with his back against the hardwood, his toes touching Gracie's.

"It's hardly a coincidence." Gracie's voice was expressionless, her face shadowed inside the cupboard which once held a mound of textbooks.

Rowan frowned at Gracie's lack of reaction. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked softly.

"My grandparents," she stated simply.

"What about them?"

Gracie turned away from him, her face pressed against the walls of the wardrobe. "They've succeeded in claiming my guardianship."

Rowan's frown deepened into shock. "But I thought the hearing was going to take place in the Christmas holidays? All the research we prepared in the library..."

"They had enough influence to move the date forward," Gracie sighed. "The truth is that purebloods have too much political power in the wizarding world." Her voice was bitter, but in the shadowed cupboard he couldn't see her expression.

Not knowing what to say or do in this situation, Rowan wordlessly offered her one of the sandwiches he had taken from the Great Hall. Gratefully accepting the offering, Gracie and Rowan ate pumpkin pasties and sandwiches in a dark space inside the Lost Tower, a place very few students dared to enter. Not that Rowan and Gracie knew that - after a simple _alohamora_ charm they thought they had discovered the perfect hiding place.

* * *

 **Gracie now has to live with her pureblood grandparents, Rowan is anxious because of Hawthorne's lack of response and they have to worry about the Slug Club Meeting. With the Christmas holidays approaching, Hawthorne will return, only hiding secrets from the rest of his family.**

 **The Lost Tower will make future appearances later in the story and it will be revealed why it was locked up in the first place...**


	17. Chapter 17 - The Three Princes

**Hello everyone, sorry updates have been so erratic lately!**

 **Rowan's perspective has always been difficult to write, so I kept changing perspectives as recent chapters have been kind of difficult to write.**

 **Thank you to everyone who followed and favourited. (Feedback is much appreciated!)**

* * *

Gracie sat on the Hogwarts Express, glaring out of the window with an intensity to rival her father's. Rowan sat beside her fidgeting. It was going to be a difficult Christmas Holiday: Gracie would have to stay with her grandparents. They stayed seated as the train pulled into the station and waited for the other students to get off, seeing as neither really wanted to leave.

Rowan had been a bit wary of Gracie since Slughorn's latest Slug Club Meeting. When their potions professor had mentioned that the Princes were well-known for their potions and that she definitely was a credit to their reputation... etcetera. Rowan had to hold her back from jinxing a teacher. After making their apologies and leaving, Gracie had been rather tightly-wound and the slightest thing could set her off.

Keeping himself at a respectful distance (far enough away that he could run if Gracie started hexing people), Rowan helped her gather their things and they lugged their trunks off the train and towards their respective families. Rowan felt a twang of hurt when Hawthorne refused to greet him and studiously tried to ignore both him and Gracie.

Mr and Mrs Prince were incredibly formal people. They stood stiffly on the platform and held themselves in regal posture. Mr Prince gave a curt nod in greeting when Gracie arrived, while Mrs Prince gave a sniff of distaste. Their granddaughter continued to glare at anything that moved. Nobody spoke in greeting and Rowan thought that it must be the grimmest family reunion he had ever seen.

Across the platform, families finished hugging and turned to the barrier which would take them back to King's Cross Station. Mrs Prince grasped Gracie's arm and the three Princes apparated away. Sighing, Rowan pulled his trunk to where his family was waiting by the barrier. Mr and Mrs Evans looked delighted to see their son, but were anxious to get home, while Hawthorne avoided Rowan's inquiring gaze and concentrated on his battered trainers.

Rowan gave another sigh. It was going to be a long holiday.

* * *

It was almost half-way through the Christmas holidays and already Hawthorne was struggling with the monumental task of giving his little brother the cold shoulder. The hurt looks he saw just made him want to stop, but Hawthorne knew it was necessary. Instead, Hawthorne chose to insult him whenever he wanted to comfort his brother, so most of their attempted conversations ended in Hawthorne calling him a freak. And every time he called him that, it broke Hawthorne's heart just a little more.

On Christmas morning, he rose early, not wanting to have an argument before breakfast started - that would certainly ruin the Christmas spirit. As usual, their parents were fairly oblivious to their children's relationships and they seemed quite happy to ignore the sudden silences that had formed between the two. Hawthorne sat in his room eating a slice of cake he had stolen while the rest of the house slept. Therefore it was easy to hear the curious tap-tapping from Hawthorne's window.

Hawthorne stuffed the rest of his cake into his mouth. He knew that this was definitely going to miss the Christmas mood, as he pulled aside the curtains to reveal a tawny owl pecking at the glass. Hawthorne wiped his pyjamas from crumbs and opened the window to the now-familiar owl. Retrieving the parchment from the bird, Hawthorne decided not to read it yet and hid it in the shoebox under his bed, with all the other letters.

To appease the owl, he fed it a couple of crumbs of cake and the tawny hooted in annoyance before flying away. Hawthorne sighed. How was _he_ supposed to know that owls hate chocolate?

Taking a deep breath, Hawthorne prepared himself for the day. He would have to exchange gifts and he would have to continue antagonising his younger brother, no matter how much personal pain it caused him. It was for Rowan's own safety after all.

* * *

Melanie sat at the dining table, as far away as she could from her family. She didn't want to be associated with them and they didn't want to be associated with her either.

Her blonde head was bowed and she avoided everyone else's gaze. Occlumency wasn't a skill a squib could acquire, so Melanie made do with her usual refusal to look anyone in the eyes. Alexandra Malfoy was fussing about the decorations for their Christmas party and Lucia was talking about her latest pureblood crush and how difficult it would be to get a marriage contract with another Ancient and Noble House. Melanie forced herself not to roll her eyes at the pretentiousness of it all.

Keeping her eyes fixed on her meal, Melanie wondered if her letter had arrived yet. She knew her mother had been contacting the muggle she had met in Diagon Alley, but she had no idea what she was planning for the boy. Melanie frowned, when she had returned from Diagon Alley that summer her mother hadn't punished her as severely as she should have. Whatever her mother was planning was bound to be bad - for both of them. Still, she had to at least warn him - she just hoped that her letter hadn't arrived too late.

As Melanie finished her meal, one of the family house elves informed her that her pet tawny owl, Athena, had returned. Thanking the elf, Melanie excused herself from the table, praying that no one would question who she had sent a letter to. Not knowing whether to be frustrated or relieved when her family didn't acknowledge her exit, Melanie made her way to her room, deep in thought. Wondering whether a random muggle boy was really worth it.

* * *

 **Hawthorne's hiding a secret and is being mean to Rowan in order to "protect" him. Melanie is stuck with her awful family, while Rowan is miserable and Gracie has to spend this holiday with her pureblood grandparents.**

 **Please review, as I would love to know what you think is going to happen next!**


	18. Chapter 18 - The Malfoy Party

**Hello again. Sorry the update was late (again) but look how many words I've written!**

 **This chapter, I briefly introduce another character.**

 **Narcissa Black = Narcissus Black**

 **Thank you to everyone who read, favourited, followed or reviewed this story.**

 **I won't keep you from this chapter any longer.**

* * *

Gracie stood in her new bedroom, fuming in anger.

The room was enormous and impeccably neat due to the family house elves. French windows lead out onto a balcony overlooking the ocean, but Gracie refused to admire the view. In front of her was a large, ornate mirror twice her height and Gracie scowled into her reflection and the dress she had been forced to wear.

Her new dress was fitted and swept along the floor, with shimmering threads adorning the sleeves. Jewellery hung from her neck and wrists, weighing her down. Gracie's scowl deepened; she hated the pretentiousness of it all. As soon as she had arrived at her new home, her grandparents had attempted to civilise their savage, half-blooded granddaughter and recent weeks had been filled with etiquette lessons on how to behave "in society".

Gracie knew that if Rowan and Hawthorne could see her now, they would laugh their heads off. Right now, Gracie would even wear one of the horrible sundresses their mother had given her, if only she didn't have to wear this outfit to the Malfoy's Yule Ball. It was quite safe to say that Gracie was dreading this occasion.

Casting one last glower at her ridiculous mirror, Gracie hitched up the skirt so the dress didn't trail across the floor as much and left the relative safety of her bedchambers to meet her grandparents downstairs.

* * *

Rowan sat on the playground swings, his feet tracing the indentations of the ground. He'd escaped the family meal and slammed the door behind him, as tears brimmed in his eyes. Sniffing pathetically, he quickly wiped them away, not wanting anyone to see him in such a vulnerable state.

He couldn't really believe that Hawthorne could ever be so cruel. His brother had always had a sharp tongue, but now his words stung like fire and Rowan was left with no one to confide in. Rowan didn't have his own owl - he usually borrowed the school ones - but now he really wished he did, so he could at least tell Gracie, even if she was too far away to do anything about it.

Actually, Gracie was part of the problem. Rowan knew she disliked her grandparents on principle, because they were pureblooded bigots, but Rowan hoped they got along, if only for Gracie's sake. He knew Gracie needed someone to be able to support her outside of his own family, for they still knew so little about the wizarding world.

Steeling himself, Rowan walked away from the swings, back towards the disastrous Christmas dinner he had abandoned. He mustn't let Hawthorne get to him - Rowan hastily wiped away a rogue tear. If Hawthorne wanted to be jealous of him, then let him. Rowan knew it was against school rules to practise magic in the holidays, but Hawthorne didn't.

A small smile tugged at Rowan's lips. It was time he got his own back.

* * *

Melanie hung around the edges of the party, keeping a low profile. Her emerald dress robes were pretty, but simplistic in design - nothing like her sister Lucia's. Lucia was allowed to socialise (read: manipulate) with the partygoers and behaved as though she was the princess of Malfoy Manor.

Suppressing a snort at her sister's typical behaviour, Melanie did her best to follow orders and pretend she wasn't related to her family - or better yet - pretend she wasn't a squib (like she spent her life doing anything else).

Her father was playing at being host and was discussing the latest activity at the ministry, while simultaneously persuading them to support him in the next vote at the Wizengamot. Frowning, Melanie searched the crowds for her scheming mother. Finding nothing, a horrible feeling gripped her stomach as Melanie felt the incoming dread wash over her. What was her mother planning? Whatever it was, it had to be important for her to miss part of the Yule Ball.

Cautiously, Melanie did her best to slip away from the party - or at least she tried. As soon as she left the ballroom, she walked straight into another girl, whose hair was as black as her's was white. It was frizzy around the edges, as though it had been tied back in plaits. Melanie suppressed the urge to swear. The other girl didn't.

Melanie reached into her purse in case the young witch decided to cause any trouble. Her hand clenched in anticipation around the silver potions knife she carried for protection against the magicals that so often surrounded her. Sure, it was irresponsible for her to bring a blade to a high-society Christmas party, but it would be just plain stupid to leave it behind when the guests all carried wands.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?"

The dark haired girl suppressed the urge to scowl and instead decided on a sneer. Melanie wanted to roll her eyes at the arrogance of most of the pureblood witches, it was clearly obvious that she didn't know Melanie was one of her hosts. Which is just how the majority of the Malfoy family liked it.

"I just so happen to live here." Melanie almost laughed out loud at the immediate horror-struck expression which crossed the other girl's face. She rarely got the chance to exert power over others (or even converse with others, as her family liked to limit all of her interactions to avoid the shame of a squib offspring) and felt a slight pull of satisfaction from it.

Melanie ignored the other girl's scrambled apologies, as she realised the light was on in her mother's study. Not glancing back, she stealthily approached the door to discover a silencing and privacy charm. Pulling her knife from her bag, Melanie stroked the side of the blade down the door. There was more to her weapon of choice than being able to cut potions ingredients and Melanie carefully returned the enchanted blade back into her purse.

Almost instantly, voices could be heard from inside the study. The first Melanie recognised as her mother, while the others she couldn't identify but one was definitely male and the other female. Melanie wondered why they were having this meeting now, instead of after the ball.

"You are aware that your son was a part of this society when he was at school?" Her mother's voice. Stern, authoritative and demanding.

The man's deep voice returned, with a sort-of boisterous tone about it. "Of course we were informed of this, although I don't see why this should matter seeing as he turned his back on them - and the rest of the wizarding world!" His voice was part anger, part regret.

"That's my grandfather!" The voice beside Melanie's ear exclaimed, causing the older girl to leap in surprise. Eyes widening, Melanie realised the girl who she had bumped into had joined in her little espionage mission. Melanie hurriedly hushed her and leaned closer to the door: she'd consider the consequence later.

"There were certain spells that only members of the society knew. Ones that do unspeakable things." Alexandra Malfoy continued, as if lecturing a pair of unruly schoolchildren.

"So your saying Adrian used one of these spells?" The woman's voice asked, her words mouse-like and timid in comparison with the other two.

"A badly performed one, certainly." Her mother's voice turned grim. "We must act quickly; they have been taken to St. Mungo's but as soon as they awake, things will be put into motion. If our plans haven't bore fruits by then, the entire enterprise might backfire completely."

The girl's grandfather no longer sounded as boisterous, instead he seemed to understand how monumental this situation was. "I know we planned to take it slowly, with our manipulations spanning decades, but I did suspect something when our son was given a court trial."

The other woman (Melanie assumed the girl's grandmother) muttered something in affirmation. "Why do you think we took in the girl, Alexandra? She's obviously someone we need to keep an eye on and next time, we're not going to be doing damage control on your behalf."

Melanie risked a glance at the girl beside her. Instead of looking hurt or unsure, an expression of fiery determination was etched across her features. Melanie gripped her silver potions blade tighter; if this girl was to do something reckless, she needed to be prepared. To her relief, however the dark haired girl remained at her side.

"I already have some contingencies planned." Lady Malfoy assured her. "I have acquired the services of a muggle boy which will prove advantageous to our final goals."

"And the Death Eaters? They have been gaining support recently; is this the society's doing?" The grandfather's deep voice rumbled out.

His wife cut in. "We obviously support their aim to rid us of the muggles, but if they aren't connected to the society, they aren't under our control and are therefore a liability to our plans."

"They are indeed a liability. My sources have not yet confirmed their leader, but they claim to be the next Dark Lady - as if we require someone else to mess with our plans." Melanie's mother was grim. "My eldest daughter is interested in joining them, as are many purebloods of her generation. Keep an eye on your granddaughter, they may ask her to commit to the cause as well."

"As if!" The girl beside Melanie snorted in contempt.

A sudden silence could be heard from the study, as its occupants listened intently. "Did you here that?"

Melanie grasped the girl by the arm and led her back to the main event, despite her many complaints that she wanted to eavesdrop further. As they reentered the ballroom, nothing appeared to have changed. Melanie's father was still playing host and manipulating their guests to his own political viewpoint. Lucia was attempting to flirt with Narcissus Black, while his brothers appeared to be trying to order firewhiskey.

It was almost shocking the contrast between this lively party and the deadly serious top-secret meeting that was happening inside the same building. Melanie shook her head at the absurdity of it all, as the other girl disappeared into the crowd. She needed to send another letter to the muggle. If she wasn't careful, this could turn into a regular correspondence.

* * *

 **Melanie and Gracie have uncovered a top-secret pureblood conspiracy! Rowan and Hawthorne's relationship continues to go downhill (I always wondered why Petunia never knew Harry was allowed to do magic outside of school).**

 **In other news, I've unpublished some of my fanfics on Wattpad and was wondering if anyone would be interested if I posted them on here? Please message me if you are (it means more writing for me, but I love it, so it's worth it).**


	19. Chapter 19 - King's Cross

**Yes I know that this update is late again - I'm going to have to come up with another updating schedule.**

 **After the revelations of last chapter, this one took a while to write. Rowan's perspective will be up next chapter.**

 **Thank you to everyone who favourited, followed or even just read this story so far.**

* * *

Students crowded the platform, as they boarded the Hogwarts Express. Gracelyn Prince sighed in relief that she was finally able to escape her grandparents and go back to school. Sweeping one of her black plaits out of her face, she pulled her trunk onto the train and tried to find a compartment.

After her spying-session with Lucia Malfoy's younger sister, her grandparents had insisted on introducing her to all the pureblood families in attendance and Gracie hadn't had the chance to tell Rowan and Hawthorne what she had overheard. Their tactic seemed to be to keep her busy enough that she wouldn't find time to write to Rowan or Hawthorne and had certainly achieved results. Another of of her grandparents' schemes to stop her associating with "mudblood filth" had them inviting "appropriate" company almost every day of the week in an attempt to get them better acquainted.

Gracie shuddered at the memories. Some of them hadn't been too bad. Mildred Bulstrode had brought her set of gobstones with her when she came to tea and she had taught Gracie how to play. The absolute worst however, had been Mulciber and Avery. Despite sharing a dormitory with them, Gracie always tried to avoid them whenever possible. When they had been invited to the Prince Household, Gracie had been forced to make small-talk with them for hours. She had eventually been able to give them the slip when Avery had found an ants' nest in the garden and the two pureblood girls came up with increasingly creative ways to kill the creatures.

Finally finding an empty compartment, Gracie stowed her luggage and looked out the window at the platform, wondering where Rowan was. She knew he had been worrying about his brother during the previous term, but now that they had spent Christmas together, Gracie hoped that their communication problem had been solved. Rowan had been driving her crazy; continuously wondering why Hawthorne wasn't answering his letters.

During her time at her grandparents', Gracie hadn't been allowed to visit her mother. After the discussion she had overheard in Alexandra Malfoy's study, Gracie knew that there was more to the curse which her mother had been hit with than what met the eye. Besides the fact that it had been improperly cast, there had been something about that spell which had made all of the adults nervous. Not to mention that there was a Society her father had been a member of at one point. Gracie knew she would start researching in the library as soon as she got back to Hogwarts.

Although most people went home for Christmas, there were less people on the platform than in September. Therefore, the crowds were thin enough for Gracie to spy her favourite family. Mr Evans was pushing the trolley holding Rowan's trunk, while Rowan and Hawthorne were both holding their mother's hands - one on each side. As she watched Rowan say goodbye before boarding the train, she frowned. It was an incredibly bizarre sight to watch the two brothers ignore each others' presence to such an extent that they wouldn't bid each other farewell when they wouldn't see each other for another six months.

Gracie watched in confusion, as Hawthorne turned to face the opposite direction to the train as it pulled out of the station and Rowan opened the door to her compartment. A horrid feeling curled itself inside her and Gracie got the impression that all was not well in the Evans family.

* * *

Hawthorne exhaled when the Hogwarts Express finally left the station. He turned to face the train, now much further down the tracks, where he couldn't be caught watching. Feeling empty, Hawthorne made his excuses and entered the platform's toilets.

Shutting himself in one of the cubicles, Hawthorne wrinkled his nose at the smell of public toilets (a smell not even the wizarding world could fix, it seemed). Putting the seat down on the loo, Hawthorne unfurled the letters from his pocket. After the disastrous Christmas dinner that had hurt both Rowan and Hawthorne, he had promised himself that he would continue to be mean to his brother for the rest of the holidays before opening the letter. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the façade if he was given more orders in the meantime.

Hands shaking, Hawthorne opened the first piece of parchment; the one he had received on Christmas morning. To his surprise, it was not addressed in the usual handwriting. In fact, it didn't even contain any threats or cutting remarks about people with non-magical upbringings. The tone of the letter almost seemed sympathetic.

It told him not to trust his usual correspondence. That she would most likely double-cross him at a later date and that nothing she could promise him would be worth it in the end. Hawthorne snorted. It would most definitely be worth it.

Placing the letter to one side, Hawthorne ripped open the seal of the second letter. This was the type of letter he was used to. To his horror, among the derogatory slurs (Hawthorne could now skip them without taking too much offence, he was so used to it by now) and blatant blackmail, he had fresh commands. He swallowed deeply, understanding the weight of such a request and not sure if he could do it. Or if he even wanted to do it.

Removing the third and final letter from his jacket pocket, Hawthorne prepared himself mentally. What could be worse than the previous letter? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Hawthorne tore into the last letter, fearful of what it might contain.

He sighed, as he realised that it was the same handwriting as the first letter. It said the same things except that they knew he was being blackmailed and that he should get help before the demands got worse. The words were empathetic and anxious, as if they understood what he was going through. The letter told him to stay strong and that he couldn't help anyone - least of all himself - if he was under the influence of _Her_.

Hawthorne sat there for a long time, considering his options. He didn't want to be bent to someone else's will, but he couldn't stand the thought of anyone harming Rowan or Gracie because of his failures. Quickly, before he changed his mind, Hawthorne took a single piece of parchment and ripped it in half. After a second's hesitation, he decided to flush it down the toilet just to be safe.

Tucking the other letters into his pocket, Hawthorne made his way back to the platform where his parents were tired of waiting. Hawthorne was silent during the car journey back home, his mind ticking over the words he wanted to say, ordering and re-ordering them in his head. His hand itched for paper and a pen; he had a letter to write.

* * *

 **I'm still trying to preserve a sense of mystery about what Hawthorne has to do. If anyone has any ideas or theories I'd love to hear them. Tell me which character(s)'s perspective you prefer to read from!**


	20. Chapter 20 - Mixed Messages

**Hello faithful readers, sorry that updates have been slow, erratic and fairly nonsensical lately.**

 **This chapter had lots of stops and starts, but I wanted to give some different perspectives after the mainly Hawthorne-centred previous chapter.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, reviewed or simply read this story so far!**

* * *

Rowan Evans spent most of the train journey scowling and Gracie was unable to coax him out of his mood, so in the end she gave up. His breath steamed against the cold windowpane as the night set in and he felt his traitorous thoughts return to the subject he was trying to avoid: Hawthorne.

Since the disaster of a Christmas dinner, the atmosphere had soured even further between the two brothers and Rowan found himself causing mayhem for his older brother whenever he could. While not able to actually do magic, Rowan had discovered a variety of creative ways to scare Hawthorne into giving him a bit of space. Whether it had been casually mentioning one of the spells they were learning in Defence Against the Dark Arts or leaving potions ingredients such as frogspawn in places Hawthorne was likely to find it. Detailed descriptions of how they would transfigure teacups into rats had him shuddering in horror (Hawthorne hated any type of small, scuttle-y rodent) and would draw a hesitant smile to Rowan's lips.

It wasn't like he enjoyed terrorising Hawthorne, Rowan reminded himself. He would only continue to punish his older brother whenever he deserved it, but with the continuous scathing remarks about freaks and how they should stay away from _normal_ people had him bubbling in rage. Rowan needed to come up with more pranks before the summer holidays, because at this rate he was going to run out of ideas.

They took the carriages up to the castle this time, instead of going by boat. Rowan sat beside his best friend, while the the lights of Hogwarts approached. He had barely spoken since King's Cross Station and his thoughts were many miles away, in the small town of Cokeworth.

* * *

A small bubble of anxiety was building inside of Gracie's stomach and it thwarted her every attempt at suppressing it. She unsuccessfully tried to assure herself that everything was going to be alright, yet Rowan's stoney presence was a constant reminder that all was not well.

Flicking her black plaits over her shoulders, Gracie ignored Spica Black's cries of " _Greasy Prince!_ " (trying not to self-consciously touch her hair) and made her way to the Slytherin table to sit beside Mildred. Avery gave her a sneer in greeting, while Mulciber treated Gracie with her most disturbing grin.

 _Wonderful,_ Gracie thought. _Thanks to my grandparents, the school psychopaths think we're friends now._ She just hoped that they didn't ask her to join in torturing innocent creatures, although their friendship might be advantageous if they decided to cleanse Hogwarts of muggleborns or filthy half-bloods such as herself. Gracie crossed her fingers that when that time came, her Slytherin cunning would produce a wonderful plan to keep both her and Rowan alive. Tucking into the feast, Gracie worried about her friend's behaviour and asked Mildred about her holidays.

* * *

High above the fields, a tawny owl clutched two letters tightly. One was addressed to her mistress, while the other the muggle had asked her to forward onto someone else (looking incredibly awkward as he said this - it was almost as if he didn't think Athena would be able to understand). Swooping through a blanket of clouds, the owl twitched slightly as the wards tickled her feathers and a mansion came into sight.

Malfoy Manor stood tall and proud against the landscape, its architecture the envy of many pureblood families. It was less gloomy than the Black ancestral home, but far more intimidating than that of the quiet grace of Greengrass or Parkinson residences. Although Athena passed windows displaying scenes of wealth and gorgeous interior design, she landed on the windowsill of a small room at the rear of the Manor.

Tapping impatiently on the glass, Athena waited for her mistress to come and open the window, then hopped inside. Melanie's room was nowhere near as luxurious as the rest of the house which her mother had meticulously decorated, but it was cozy. Shutting the window gently, Melanie retrieved the post and sat down in her armchair across from the fire, a patched quilt covering her knees.

Crammed bookshelves lined the walls and books spilled out in staggering piles across the floorspace. A single cuddly toy sat on top of a haphazardly made bed, with pillows and blankets threatening to fall off. Leaning against the wardrobe was an iron rod, which Melanie used to pry open the floorboards and stash anything which would give her any unwanted attention. Slung across the back of a chair, the bag containing her silver potions knife drooped as though depressed.

Melanie ripped her way into the letters, leaving ragged tears across the paper. She frowned at the material of the letter, never having felt it up close before. What she did know however, was that muggles used it and she leant over the curved handwriting in anticipation, knowing who it was from. Before she was able to read the entire thing though, she heard footsteps outside her door.

The young squib gulped. It was not the light footsteps of a house elf cleaning the corridor; it was the strutting pace of her mother. Hurriedly, Melanie grabbed the iron rod from against the wardrobe and used it to lever open the floorboards beneath her bed, placing the letters in a wooden box concealed under the floor. Scurrying out from under the bed, Melanie just managed to grab a book and throw herself onto her armchair as the door began to open.

Her mother stood outside the doorway, her figure tall and foreboding. Melanie tried to look innocent, as if she had been reading all day and most certainly didn't have anything to hide (she hoped fervently that she wasn't holding the book that she had grabbed upside-down). She held her breath in anticipation... and her mother passed her bedroom, continuing down the corridor towards Lucia's sleeping quarters.

Frowning, Melanie replaced her bookmark and peered around her doorframe. What was mother doing in Lucia's room? Lucia had left on the Hogwarts Express that morning and she wasn't absent-minded enough to leave something behind. Briefly considering following, Melanie picked up her book again, as her mother returned from Lucia's quarters. It was yet another strange activity that her mother had been doing recently.

Grabbing a quill and scrap piece of parchment, Melanie began to write a list of anything suspicious she had seen or heard. Perhaps then she would be able to make sense of what was going on and what her mother had to do with this "secret society" everyone had been talking about recently.

* * *

 **A little bit of insight into the life of Melanie Malfoy and Gracie is now attracting the attention of Avery and Mulciber. Hawthorne's letters are going to take a bit longer before they're properly read, but that will most likely happen next chapter.**

 **Let me know what you think is going to happen next!**


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